Marked
by TheQuillDragon
Summary: Hermione always thought she was treated differently from other kids. After getting accepted into Hogwarts, she realizes how bad her life has really been. With a mark matching her someone in Hogwarts, can she open her heart and overcome her past? Can someone unearth the strong girl who was always within her, waiting to come out? Hermione/Harry
1. Chapter 1

Sunlight poured through her eyelids, a dull red ache that burned, urging her to rise. Hermione blinked blearily, squinting against the bright light. She sighed, pushing her auburn, bushy hair away from her face. She sat up, shoving the covers away from her body, stretching her arms as she left the bed. She automatically catalogued all the things she needed to get ready for school, running the short list through her mind. She was surprised her mum hadn't woken her yet.

As she began to gather her things, which were strewn about on her desk, it hit her. The end of school was yesterday. She needn't get up, because it was already summertime. She set her books back on the desk, her mouth pulling down into a frown. Her parents would already be at work.

They were always at work. Hermione's parents were dentists, and they were proud about their job choice. They had been featured in several highly esteemed magazines detailing their work. Hermione truly didn't mind, in fact, she hoped she would have that same dedication one day in her field of study.

Hermione could say her parents were strict. They always told her exactly what was expected of her. It was Hermione who was the disappointment. It was she who always let her parents down. Sometimes, she couldn't understand where she went wrong, but she never doubted it was she who was wrong.

Hermione used to get along with the kids in her school. She had fun playing around in the schoolyard and talking with her friends. But her parents didn't like her going out. Whenever she went to a sleepover, they always yelled at her when she got back. She knew she must have done something wrong, but she never really found out what.

It was worse when she tried a sleepover at her house. Her parents had seemed fine with it until her friends got there. Then everything went downhill. The whispers began after the incident. Her friends stop talking to her and everyone kept their distance.

No one wanted to be friends with a freak and her freak parents. Teachers from school started asking about her home life. It was then that Hermione knew her life wasn't normal. Other kids parents were not so strict, and the punishments for misbehaving not so severe. But Hermione knew she had no one to blame but herself, for she was the evil one. Her parents were only trying to protect her from herself.

They had tried numerous things to help her. Churches and priests, parenting books, solitary confinement. Nothing made the evil in her go away. Hermione could do terrible things, things no child could do in their right mind.

It started when she was quite young; they were out on a holiday trip. Her mum had tripped while holding her and suddenly they were safe and sound, sitting on a bench miles away from where they were just moments ago. If the fall had taken place, Hermione would certainly have been dead, as the stairs were very steep. It had happened in a blink of an eye.

A couple years later, her parents had chalked it up to a miracle and moved on. One day she was playing in the street and a car out of nowhere came zooming down her street. She would die without the chance to move, but the car just halted in front of her, with no explanation. There was no time for the car to stop, and there was no sound or indication the car had even begun to brake.

Her parents ran out of the house, and the man behind the wheel was dragged to jail, but her parents began to fear her.

Slowly, restrictions began to be placed upon her. Her parents got angrier and angrier each time something would happen, odd or not. They often told her how she needed to ignore her evil tendencies. Hermione tried, she tried all the time, but she couldn't control what happened around her. Nor could she explain the miracle like things surrounding her.

Hermione became a quiet child, the opposite of what she had been in her early years. If books were an enjoyment before, they were her obsession now. She never left the house unless it was strictly for school. And she was okay with that; Hermione didn't want to hurt anyone. She didn't want to be taken away; she didn't want anyone to see the bruises.

Hermione just shook her head and pushed herself away from the desk. She promptly made her bed and straightened her already tidy room. She was tired of thinking of her life, and she already had a stack of books she wanted to read.

The house was already tidy, her parents told her to clean it last night when she got home, but Hermione swept and mopped anyway. Her parents got angry when she did nothing but read all day.

And after the house was cleaned, that was all she did. This summer she decided to read up on colleges and careers. She was currently reading about underwater sea welders. It was quite a large tome, but she finished it just as she heard the car door rumbled, signaling the arrival of her parents.

Her head jerked up, she couldn't believe she spent the whole day reading! She hoped her parents didn't notice. She jumped up desperately, straightening the couch and running to her room. She put the book on the desk, thanking the lucky stars she had gotten dressed before lazing about. Her parents would be furious if they found her in pajamas.

She heard her parents come through the kitchen door, setting their briefcases on the table. They immediately began talking in low voices. Hermione's stomached roped in anxiety, knowing they only lowered their voices when talking about her. She cursed herself, knowing she must have done something wrong.

"Hermione! Come here this instant!" her mother's voice called.

Hermione did not dare drag her feet; she could tell by her mum's tone she was seriously irate. Hermione was before her parents in a flash, trying not to cower in the wake of their glares.

"Hermione," her father said in a deceptively calm voice. "Did you go outside today?"

Hermione shook her head vigorously. "N-no."

"Don't lie to us Hermione! We weren't born yesterday!" her mum burst, grabbing her arm.

"I didn't, I swear!" Hermione pleaded.

Her father only shook his head. "Where is the trash Hermione? It was overflowing this morning and now it's gone. Are you telling me that a sprite made the trash disappear?"

If Hermione could have kicked herself, she would have. She had completely forgotten she had taken out the trash! She knew if she said anything now it would only get worse so she kept quiet.

Her mother shook her shoulder angrily, making her teeth rattle. "You can't lie to us Hermione! You know the rules. You aren't allowed out of the house! We can't have your vile talents where people can see them."

"Did you leave the house?" her father asked her again.

Hermione nodded miserably. "Only to take out the trash," she whispered softly. "I forgot. I'm sorry, truly I am."

"Sorry isn't good enough, Hermione!" Her mother's hand descended faster than she could have deflected, cutting across her cheek. The pain was just as swift; she would have fallen, if not for her mother's hand holding her in place.

"You know what it means when you disobey us Hermione. Go get the strap." Her father didn't even bother looking at her. Her mother released her, and Hermione went to do as her father asked. She put a shaking hand over her right cheek, feeling the heat rising from the mark.

Tears welled up in her eyes for what she knew would come next. She didn't mean to disobey them. She returned with the strap. She tried to be strong, but tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes.

Her father looked down on her, taking the strap in his hand. "Hermione, we only do this because we love you. You have to learn to control your evil tendencies. We know it's hard, but you can't be out of this house until you have learned discipline. You understand that, don't you?"

Hermione nodded slowly. "Please don't, I said I was sorry," she whispered.

**OoOoOoO**

Hermione woke to a dark room. She vaguely wondered where she was. She shifted, and pain laced across her body. It raced through her, from her neck down to her feet. She let out a chocked sob, memories of the evening rushing back to her.

She couldn't move. It was already unbearable, pain so intense she couldn't describe. She lay what she recognized as her bed, though she didn't know how she had gotten there. She lay there, unable to move, and simply sobbed.

Sometime in the night or early morning, her parents got up and had begun readying for work. Hermione struggled to breathe, trying not to move, trying not to cry. Her parents hated to hear her cry. She heard footsteps come down the hall. She tensed, gasping in regret at the painful movement.

Light from the hallway brightened the dark room as her father entered. He knelt down by the bed, careful not to jiggle the bed.

"Your mother and I are going to work late today, however, we expect you to be dressed and cleaned up when we come home. I hope I don't need to remind you not to go outside."

He didn't wait for a reply. He rose and kissed her forehead, closing the door behind him.

Hermione knew they left when she heard the car door rumble. She didn't bother hiding her tears now, letting them run down her face. Her voice rose, she felt for crying out for help, for someone. Anyone, but no one would help someone as evil as her. She didn't deserve help from anyone, but her parents were still helping her. She was the evil one. She deserved it.

She fell in and out of sleep for most of the morning. She looked for the clock, but she couldn't see much lying belly down as she was now. She resolved to move, she didn't know what time it was, and she would surely need as much time as she could get to prepare.

She moved slowly, only twitching a finger at a time. Moving her arm inch by inch under her, to try and lift herself. She slid off the bed, testing her weight on her legs. She pushed herself off the bed fully, her vision going dark. She swayed, but stayed upright. Breathing easily seemed a distant prize. She dragged herself to the door, using any surface as support. Books began to litter the floor as she grabbed her desk and shelves.

She made it to the bathroom, turning on the bath as cold as she could get it. She gripped the sink, gasping and trying to get her breathing back to normal. She raised her head to the mirror. Her eyes were bloodshot, her scalp a sticky mass of clotted blood and tangled hair. She sported a bruise on her cheek; it had already begun turning a purple black.

She struggled with her clothes; desperate to see how badly she was hurt for her own eyes. Her shirt was stuck to her back; she had to pry it off, pulling off freshly scabbed skin. She stopped several times to take a break; the pain was too much for her.

When it was off, she held the shirt up. The yellow shirt was suited more in the term of tie-dye now. Red and dried black dotted the back of the shirt. Hermione used the cleanest part to wipe her face the best she could, her mother hated it when she used towels to clean up after herself.

She turned as softly as she could, trying to get a view of her back. As soon as she got a glimpse she turned away, stifling a scream. She hardly had a back to see, it was…horrible.

She removed the rest of her clothes and lowered herself into the bath. She arched her back as the water hit her, finally allowing a scream to flee her lips.

The cold water both hurt her and helped her at the same time. Her inflamed skin begged for the cool water, but the sting hit her back with a fury as well.

Hermione curled up into a ball and rocked, the repetitiveness comforting her.

**OoOoOo**

Hermione heard her parents come into the house. She rose from the couch where she had been waiting. She was clothed in a blue dress with long sleeves and a length to her ankles. She knew her father meant her to be dressed up tonight. They had probably had a banquet where they needed her present to give a perfect family image.

Her parents didn't talk to her as they came in. They went to their room, and she could hear them talking about tonight's affair. They came out, her mother taking notice of her.

"Hermione sit down, I'll get a hairbrush and some gel."

Hermione obeyed, sitting on the edge of the sofa. Her mother knelt down in front of her, roughly turning her head to look at the mark on her face. Her mother tossed a bag of makeup on the couch, opening and spilling the contents out.

"I shouldn't have to waste these expensive products on you, but your misbehavior calls for desperate measures don't they? I don't know where you get your looks from, because it certainly wasn't from your father and I. I guess they weren't kidding when they say evil takes an ugly face. Turn your head." Her mother began applying makeup on her face.

Hermione tried not to wince as her mother poked and prodded her bruise. "I'm sorry, mum," she cringed.

"Listen to me, Hermione." She turned her head to face Hermione. She looked very stern. "This Banquet is very important to your father and me. You just need to stand there and be silent, do you understand? No funny business."

"Yes, ma'am." Hermione dutifully responded. Hermione was secretly relieved; maybe she could find a secluded spot and get back to reading. Maybe no one would notice her at all.

"Good, now don't disappoint me." She released her chin roughly, gathering up her makeup materials and attacking her hair. Hermione held in tears as her mother tugged through her hair.

A knock sounded from the door, shocking both Hermione and her mother.

"Dear, can you get that? I'm trying to tackle our daughter's hair here," her mother called out to her father.

Her dad moved quickly, straitening his tie as he moved from the bedroom. He opened the door promptly. Hermione craned her neck to get a better look at whoever was at the door. Her mother moved in front of her view as she went to greet whoever was at the door.

"Hello," a prompt voice spoke. "Are you Mrs. And Mr. Granger?" the unfamiliar voice asked.

"We are, how can we help you?"

"I have come to talk about your daughter, Miss Hermione Granger. She has been accepted into a prodigious school. An opportunity that should not be passed up."

"I'm sorry, but we are not really interested in schools at the moment, my wife and I have someplace to be tonight." Hermione's father said politely.

"This will be worth your while, Mr. Granger. I assure you, this is no scam. May I come in? I am sure this will take no time at all."

Hermione's mouth dropped as the woman walked in. Her parent, her parents… had let someone inside the house? The woman held herself in a very peculiar manner. A dignified air hovered over her. She was dressed rather sharply, in a skirt and heels. She was old enough to be her grandmother, but she got the unique feeling of timelessness.

"Right, my name is Professor McGonagall. I teach at the school your daughter has been accepted to."

"Wait, wait, wait. Accepted into? We haven't submitted any applications to any schools," Mr. Granger pointed out.

"Students with certain qualifications are submitted immediately. Your daughter is one of these scholarship students." Professor McGonagall removed what looked like a stick from her robes. "Your daughter, quite simply put, is a witch. You might have noticed some odd things happening around her. Accidental magic. Perhaps a life or death situation was changed and seen as a miracle?"

"Hogwarts, the school your daughter has been accepted to, is a school that teaches young witches and wizards how to use their talents in a responsible, productive way." Professor McGonagall paused, taking in the shocked looks of her parents.

McGonagall simply nodded, twirling her wand in the air, blue sparks shooting out of the tip. She pointed her stick at the coffee table, levitating several magazines around the room.

Hermione looked in awe at the woman in front of her. McGonagall gave her a small smile. She blushed and looked away, catching the look on her mother's face. It was slowly turning red.

"How the HELL did you do that?" her mother screeched, catching Professor McGonagall by surprise. McGonagall turned to her, knowing every parent had a different reaction. She proceeded to talk to them.

Hermione's head was running a mile a minute with all the information running through her head. A witch? Like the witch hunting she had learned about in school? Or like a coven of withes from T.V? What would her parents think?"

Hermione didn't hear the argument get started, or the heated yelling that had been going on for five minutes. She only felt the hand grabbing her by the scruff, pulling her off the couch and shoving her at the lady in their house. She could now hear both her parents yelling.

"You want the little freak? You can have her! Little devil spawn can be your problem now! I don't care! Not looking so eager now, are you? Well I am not taking her back. Her mum and I have been dealing with her shit ever since she was young. So take her and go! Pack and go! Don't be here when we get back! Let's go dear!" Mr. Granger grabbed his coat and his wife and stormed out, shouting curses until he was too far away for her to hear.

In a seemly impossible event, her parents stormed out and drove off, leaving her alone with the lady.

The Professor looked downright livid to Hermione. She slowly tried to edge away from the woman. A hand landed on her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. Hermione flinched, expecting something far worse.

McGonagall led her to her room. "What do you wish to take with you, Hermione?" she asked firmly. Hermione numbly gathered her clothes and books. She piled her belongings on her bed. She was done rather quickly; her parents hadn't allowed her much.

McGonagall didn't bat an eyelash and the pitfall pile of things on the bed. She simply waved her wand and the things disappeared.

"Come along now, child." Hermione followed obediently, sneaking glances at the woman. Glances that McGonagall noticed, but didn't comment on. They left through the front door, not bothering to lock it behind them.

McGonagall reached for her arms, and Hermione, not expecting it, gasped and twitched in surprise.

"I am about to preform something called sidelong apparition. It will be slightly uncomfortable but think of it as instant teleportation, of a sort. Alright, Miss Granger?"

Hermione simply nodded, not knowing what to even think after all of this, it seemed her mind was numb, not allowing her any thoughts.

And suddenly it was dark, she felt as if he was being pushed through a tube five times too small. She felt compressed, and she tried to scream, but no noise came out, didn't seem possible. With a loud pop, she could breathe again. She fell to her hands and knees, no hand supporting her.

She dry heaved, her stomach convulsing. A soothing hand touched her back. Not thinking, she shrank from the hand, whimpering in fear. Her back had flared in pain; landing in such a way had jarred her.

She quickly remembered where she was, forcing herself to take deep breaths. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "Give me but a moment."

The hand retreated, leaving her in peace for a couple moments. Hermione looked up; it was obvious they weren't on her street anymore. They were in a back alley of some sort, and she could hear the noises of a busy street.

She stood, wobbling on her feet. She saw the professor offer a hand and she took it, knowing she was barely standing upright as it was.

"I am sorry you had such a violent reaction. First times are usually the worst, but it was the most convenient way to get anywhere quickly unless you want to be tossed about by that terrible Knight Bus."

"Come along, we are almost there." Hermione let herself be led, taking in the sights around her. She rarely left the house, and this was unlike any place she had ever seen. All around her were oddly dressed people, in a wide array of colors. She was so busy looking at the people; she almost hadn't noticed the shops that were just about as odd as the people. Oddly shape stores advertising cauldrons and sphinxes.

McGonagall led them to a rather ordinary looking building. They went up the steps and through the door. The moment they passed through the door, the noise and sights of the street stopped.

McGonagall wasted no time, ushering her to the front desk. There was a woman behind the counter, busy trying to catch a key with wings. Hermione blinked her eyes at the sight, not sure she could trust her eyes after all of this.

"Excuse me, I need a room immediately."

The woman turned, clutching the captured key in her hand. "Fantastic. Room service is provided. We serve a late dinner in an hour. Adjoining bathroom?" The bubbly woman asked.

McGonagall nodded, pushing a card toward the woman. "Take it out of the Hogwarts fund, thank you."

The woman quickly scanned the card, and handed her the key, a rope now hanging from it. "Room 19C. Great view of Diagon Alley. Have a good day!"

Hermione didn't need to be told to follow the retreating figure. They came across the room immediately, and upon entering, Hermione gasped. The room was probably bigger than her whole house combined! The bed was huge, with big, fluffy pillows and giant feather comforter. On a chair next to the bed were her belongings from the house. The giant window to the right of her called to her. She took careful steps towards it, taking in the busy street and the sights. She could look at it for hours; she could already feel it.

She felt the Professor's presence behind her. Hermione turned slowly. McGonagall looked at with a frown apparent on her face. McGonagall raised her hand, rubbing her fingers together, contemplating in surprise and the red liquids appearance. Hermione looked at them in surprise as well, seeing the faint red smudges on her fingers. Hermione's face turned red in embarrassment. Whatever "apparating" was, it had broken the seal of scabs on her back, bleeding through her dress, if her blood somehow ended up on McGonagall's hand.

The blood rushing to her face made her feel weak, and her legs trembled. Before she could stop herself, she went sailing to the floor, darkness swallowing her into a blissful sleep. Her last memory was seeing McGonagall stepping forward to catch her.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's Note**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise or take credit for any Harry Potter characters.**_

_**My thanks to those who review.**_

**OoOoOo**

McGonagall POV

Minerva McGonagall's day had started off like any other. The start of the new school term meant that new students needed to be enrolled and informed. She had immediately set off to her Hogwarts's office, to make a plan for the day. She had already been at several muggle homes already this summer, and so far it there had been good reactions all round.

She found pleasure in the happiness and excitement of the newfound wizards and witches. She experienced a secret joy at being the first magical person these children came into contact with. Children, she found, couldn't hate what they didn't know. They tended to be excited and awed, some relieved that the strange things happening around them could be explained.

It was the parents who made what happened after gaining this knowledge either a bright, happy time or a time of fear and uncertainty. McGonagall had been introducing the wizarding world to muggleborns ever since she was hired at Hogwarts. She had seen a wide array of reactions, from ecstatic parents to dreadful displays of disbelief and anger.

McGonagall could easily assess upon looking at the parents what route of discussion she should pursue. She was hardly foolproof however. She couldn't count all the times she had to obliviate muggle police officers and parents just to start things all over again.

She could vaguely remember in her younger years, having plates and vases thrown at her head. It was fear and uncertainty that made people lash out, she was after all; asking to take their child away for most of the year, to a school they didn't know existed.

It was an art really, not that she would ever call it that, but it took a certain finesse to help the unbelieving through the process. McGonagall learned very early that the best way was to show what she was talking about. She absently remembered a phrase from some American movie, "Seeing is believing," or something odd like that. But it worked, and it shocked most parents enough to sit and listen, and to connect the dots themselves.

But as much hassle as it was, McGonagall loved summer the most out of all the year. Even more, perhaps, than the end-of-feast ceremony, when her proud lion cubs won the House Cup.

She sat at her desk, reviewing the letters stacked in neat piles. She went through them methodically, signing off when needed and storing away information for later. One letter caught her eye as it surfaced from the pile. It was of thick parchment, and held a heavy weight to it. She sliced the letter open quickly, her curiosity sparked.

It was of course a ministry letter, urgently requesting her presence at the ministry. McGonagall's brow furrowed. Why would they need her there? She already had the list of discovered muggleborns, there was no need of her at the ministry then. Perhaps there was a mistake? Or some deeper matter at hand? She checked the date from the letter, and the date read today.

McGonagall rose from her chair, folding the letter and placing it in her robes. She opened the grate on her fireplace, taking a pinch of Floo powder from the tin container. She checked for her wand, and threw the powder into the fireplace.

"Ministry of Magic!"

OoOoOo

To her utter surprise, she was ushered into a courtroom the moment she arrived. She spotted Albus and the minster, along with all the heads of the school boards. She did not take kindly to being hustled, nor did she take kindly to the obvious information gap she seemed to have in comparison to the headmaster.

She decided the first course of action was to fix that problem immediately. She walked to him, and Albus edged over to let her in the conversation.

"Minerva, I am pleased to see you got our letter. I was about to send another one. We couldn't start, not without you," Fudge acknowledged her. He seemed nervous, fidgeting with his hands as he spoke.

"I am most pleased to hear that, Cornelius. Though, I cannot say I am pleased with the urgency of this meeting. What is going on?" McGonagall asked, taking a quick view across the courtroom. She instantly recognized the eleven other members. Fudge had assembled the Board of Governors.

"Well Minerva, that is an excellent question," he raised his voice, alerting the other members. "Shall we gather?"

Albus simply waved his wand and a table appeared with enough seats for the fourteen of them in the middle of the courtroom floor. Minerva sighed; Dumbledore never really had perfect transfiguring abilities. The table was grand, but the chairs were simple, and looked quite uncomfortable.

Each person dealt with this problem in his or her own way. Minerva simply transfigured the seat it something more her style. Others summoned cushions or popped in their own seats. As the fourteen finally settled, the Minister spoke up.

"Thank you for all assembling on such short notice," Fudge began.

A woman seated across from Minerva scrambled for her wand, and soon had a quick note-quill recording on some parchment. Minerva caught her eye a nodded her appreciation. Malfalda Hopkins just smiled in response. They all didn't have a particular fondness for the current Minister, and even Minerva wouldn't put it past Fudge to do something underhanded.

"Oh, yes, good, good." Fudge realized what Malfalda was doing. "It is probably for the best this is recorded."

Albus spoke. "That is correct, Minister. Now could you please tell me and the Board of Governors what purpose we have here this morning?"

McGonagall looked sharply at Dumbledore, who was sitting at her right. Even Dumbledore was pulled in the morning for something he did not know? Minerva's view on today's impromptu meeting was deeply altered. She took stock in his attitude.

Albus Dumbledore was sitting straight up in his seat. His eyes did not have the expected twinkle, instead a steely concerned gaze bored into the Minister's own eyes. If Dumbledore was concerned, then Minerva should be even more so. She saw the other eleven members take notice of this change as well. She observed the subtle changes take place, straighter posture and stricter face expressions.

"Why yes, straightaway." Fudge cleared his throat nervously, his eyes darting around the table, settling on Lucius Malfoy.

"As you know, each year at precisely 12'oclock on July 1st, the Ministry issues a list with all muggleborns who will be contacted for Hogwarts," Fudge started slowly.

The table nodded in agreement towards Fudge, not sure what this had to do with anything.

"Well, we would have no way of knowing what muggles are magical or not without help from an instrument from the Founding Four of Hogwarts."

An irritated sigh came from across the table, McGonagall turned to see that it was Griselda Marchbanks, who had backgrounds in the Improper Use of Magic department.

"I think we all know what you are talking about. Thoth's Scroll is hardly secret. Though I am still in favor of the item being turned over to the Board of Governors, rather than the Department of Mysteries, we all know it somehow tracks down muggle children. Let's get on with it shall we? I have a hearing in an hour!" Griselda huffed in obvious disapproval.

Fudge spoke again. "Yes, Thoth's Scroll. Exactly, Mrs. Marchbanks. Every year at the precise same time names appear on the scroll until the next year. Every name is recorded and every student tracked down. This year was no different. The fact of the matter is; we never knew what made the Scroll work or how it knew what muggleborns had powers and who didn't. We have never had a problem with the Scroll. Until last night, that is."

"Merlin's Beard! Is the scroll harmed?" A man cried out. Tiberius Ogden was a stout supporter of Dumbledore. Minerva suspected that is how he came to be accepted onto the School Board. But McGonagall had no qualms with the man. He was kind hearted and took his job seriously.

"No, no, no." Fudge supplied hastily. "The Scroll is not harmed in any way we can perceive."

"Then please, Minister," Malfoy sneered, "if the scroll is not destroyed, however good news that would be, then what has brought us here today?"

Most at the table scowled at the prejudiced pureblood sitting at the table. It was no secret Malfoy bought his way on the Board, using the Minister as leverage.

"We released the list to the Board as usual. However, when checking rounds last night, an Unspeakable noticed that three new names had been added, in red ink. Now, that is highly irregular. The Scroll has never added names before in the history we know of, and it has never written in red ink. Always black ink, always on July 1st."

At this announcement, the table erupted in discussion and disbelief. Everyone was shocked; it was the first time in history Thoth's Scroll had added names after July 1st. Fudge pulled out a very sturdy looking stroll. He unrolled it delicately, and the fine drawings and writings on the page made it unmistakably recognizable as Thoth's Scroll. He passed the important parchment around the table, everyone looking at the three bolded red names at the bottom of the scroll with their own eyes.

Now McGonagall knew why they were summoned. They needed to decide what to do with those three names. Albus cleared his throat expectantly. The table quieted immediately, turning to Dumbledore.

"There are many things, big and small, which we wish we had answers to. However, these are answers we cannot have access to, for now. Let us instead, focus on the facts. Thoth's Scroll has one goal, and that goal is to inform us of the muggleborn students who will come to Hogwarts, if they wish it," Albus turned his body towards Fudge. "I therefore, suggest we are given the names of these three children, and continue as if nothing was odd at all," Albus suggested.

"That is all very good and noble, Albus," Malfoy sneered. "But there is the simple question of why only these three names showed up in red, or why they showed up at all," he passed the scroll along, and there was visible relief from the others as he did this. "Perhaps they are in red for a reason, maybe these children are dangerous. We simply do not know. Are we to endanger the other children for the sake of the few? I suggest, that until we know, we should not allow these children within the company of the other children." Malfoy smiled; his teeth achingly white. "I doubt the world will suffer from a few less muggleborns and a Potter, after all."

"Lucius," the Minister gasped, shocked at his blatant disrespect. "All magical students are allowed at Hogwarts. This will not be discussed."

"That is quite right, Minister," Dumbledore murmured. "Hogwarts accepts any child with significant magical ability; and we cannot withhold the opportunity to attend."

McGonagall couldn't believe the nerve of Malfoy. If the utter disrespect to muggleborns was any indication, then Malfoy should not be allowed a hundred feet near the front of the castle, let alone help run it!

Broderick Bode spoke up as he examined the parchment. "Two of these names here, it isn't right. Luna Lovegood is a child born of two magical parents; she should not be on this list. Lovegoods have a long line of magic, and why is Harry Potter on this list if he was already on the other?"

"Is the other one even from muggle parents?" McGonagall spoke up.

Fudge cut in. "Yes, a Miss Hermione Granger." He pulled out pictures of the two girls in question. One moving, the other not. "Miss Lovegood is only ten years old, but she showed up on the list to be invited to Hogwarts this year. Miss Granger is the proper age, as is Mr. Potter."

"Are you quite certain the scroll hasn't been tampered with?" Malfalda asked hesitantly.

"Yes, the Department of Mysteries is extremely guarded and monitored. There is no explanation for this. There will be a more thorough investigation, but it won't be ready in time for the school year," Fudge shifted about in his seat.

After everyone had their chance to look over the photos and review the facts, Albus raised his voice so he could be heard clearly.

"I suggest that until we know what all of this means, we simply add the names to the regular list and they begin as first years. I think the Board needs to take a vote. "

McGonagall rose, as did the rest of the eleven, leaving Dumbledore and Fudge in their seats. The Board moved away from the table, and they talked amongst themselves for a short while. They returned to the table shortly.

"Ten agree to two disagree, the children will be allowed to come to Hogwarts as first years as the scroll indicates by majority vote. The knowledge at this meeting will not be spread, any information will be given on a need to know basis. This decision was finalized at eleven forty two A.M. This Board of Governors meeting is disbanded." McGonagall summarized for the sake of the quick quill.

After it had finished, the quill laid by the parchment. McGonagall duplicated a copy of for the members, and she distributed them on the way out. In short order, it was only she, Albus, and Fudge still in the room.

"Do not worry, Cornelius; I am sure it will get sorted out in short order. McGonagall is Hogwarts recruiter for muggleborns; she hasn't lost a student yet." Albus reassured.

"I hope you're right, Albus, if these three don't show up, we might never know why they appeared on that list of names. We need to assure they do have magical powers, imagine the scandal if the scroll cited a squib and regular muggle. Don't even get me started on The Boy who Lived! I could lose my place in the Ministry!"

And, with that, the Minister stormed out.

OoOoOo

Albus had immediately invited her to his office after the meeting. They had discussed possibilities and the meaning of the names on the scroll, but it came down to what they didn't now, why these three children were special. Harry Potter was easily explained, all the wizarding world knew the boy's name. But, in truth, it only raised more questions. Why was his name thrown in the mix of two unknown children? How did all the strings attach?

Minerva had agreed to put Miss Granger on her rounds for today. She had already gotten half of the new students out of the way. As she left his office she didn't feel particularly comforted, if magical artifacts started acting up, what could be next? The sorting hat refusing to sort?

Minerva started on her day, going door to door for those on her list. The day went as she had expected, and only one vase was thrown at her. It had all worked out well however, and all students were ready to head to Hogwarts when their time came. None of the parents seemed too shocked, most already knew their child was different, and it was a relief to most of them to have an explanation.

She had spotted a few children she knew she would enjoy teaching to later in the year at Hogwarts. But the time came and she couldn't avoid it any longer. The sun had begun its decent, and McGonagall could not ignore the aching curiosity within her to find out just who this Hermione Granger was. She had left Miss Granger as the last on her list because she was practical. She had a strange sense of foreboding that this may be the hardest assignment of the day.

She looked at the address on her list; it was right in the heart of the city in a well-to-do subdivision. She was almost surprised that Dumbledore did not handle this case himself, but perhaps he realized he did not have the most delicate touch at such things. Minerva allowed herself a small smile at the thought. Better at something than Dumbledore? How preposterous!

She took the muggle cab; she could not appartate to a place she had not seen. It was one of the inconveniences of the job; muggle transportation was always limited and slow. But it was sort of thrilling, she mused. Hailing down a cab and using muggle money. It seemed far more exciting than simply apparating, for she did that every day.

She arrived at the address; she paid the man quickly and stepped out. The house was large by her standard of muggles. They had big front yard; the house itself sat back away from the road. They had their own private drive and two garages attached to the house. The grass was immaculately mowed and kept. So far, her first impressions were good.

She walked up the driveway, pausing at the door. She knocked firmly and stood back. She heard a woman's voice through the door, and a moment or so later the door opened.

McGonagall quickly assessed the man before her. Middle aged, strong build. He wore a white Oxford shirt with a half done tie. But McGonagall looked for the eyes. Brown and curious, slightly on edge. Perfectly normal for someone seeing a stranger at the door.

A woman joined the man at the door, looking at her curiously. Her eyes to McGonagall were sharp and stressed. She was dressed rather fancifully, with a long green dress gracing her frame.

"Hello. Are you Mr. And Mrs. Granger?" she greeted, starting the process.

"We are, how can we help you?" The Grangers seem to tense up at the question, as if expecting bad news.

"I have come to talk about your daughter, Miss Hermione Granger. She has been accepted into a prodigious school. An opportunity that should not be passed up." If it was at all possible, the couple before her tensed even more at the mention of Hermione's name. McGonagall narrowed her eyes.

"I'm sorry, but we are not really interested in schools at the moment, my wife and I have someplace to be tonight." Mr. Granger replied politely, but firmly. He moved to close the door, but McGonagall had dealt with this before. She stopped the door before he could close it halfway.

"This will be worth your while Mr. Granger. I assure you, this is no scam. May I come in? I am sure this will take no time at all," she said in an equally firm voice.

Mr. Granger looked at her with new, calculating eyes. He observed her for a moment, and opened the door wide for her to enter.

McGonagall entered the room, walking into what must be their living room. She got her first glimpse at what she assumed to be the girl in question, dressed to go out like her parents. Every part of her skin was covered, a style she didn't see very often in young girls. The girl's bushy hair was half brushed into a semblance of control. She turned and looked at McGonagall with something like shock and surprise in her face. Minerva noticed the appalling amount of makeup on the girl.

The house was spotless, every surface clean with everything in its place. Family pictures lined the mantle of the fireplace and shelves. At first glance, it seemed a perfect household. She turned to the parents, who were watching her.

"Right, my name is Professor McGonagall. I teach at the school your daughter has been accepted to."

"Wait, wait, wait. Accepted? We haven't submitted any applications to any schools," Mr. Granger pointed out. That was a common question for most parents; McGonagall gave him the standard answer she gave to all.

"Students with certain qualifications are submitted immediately. Your daughter is one of these scholarship students," McGonagall drew her wand from her clothes, preparing to use it. "Your daughter, quite simply put, is a witch. You might have noticed some odd things happening around her. Accidental magic. Perhaps a life or death situation was changed and seen as a miracle? Hogwarts, the school your daughter has been accepted to, is a school that teaches young witches and wizards how to use their talents in a responsible, productive way," McGonagall paused, taking in the shocked looks of her parents.

McGonagall simply nodded, knowing there was only one way to get things done swiftly and efficiently. She twirled her wand in the air, sending blue sparks out of the tip. She pointed her wand at the coffee table, levitating several magazines around the room before setting them back down.

McGonagall turned to see the young girl's reaction. The face of an excited and awed little girl looked back at her. Hermione's eyes, she concluded, already showed signs of amazing intelligence. She gave the little girl one of her rare, encouraging smiles, causing her to blush at the attention and turn to her mother.

McGonagall saw something in the girl's face as she turned, something the heavy makeup did not quite cover up. She frowned immediately. She hardly had time to contemplate the problem before she was caught off guard.

"How the HELL did you do that?" Mrs. Granger screeched, catching Professor McGonagall by surprise. McGonagall turned to her, knowing every parent had a different reaction. She took in the red face of Mrs. Granger, and the steely look of anger in Mr. Granger.

"Look, lady, I don't know what you are trying to pull, but our daughter is not a witch! I am asking you to leave this instant. We have plans tonight and they will not be interrupted by some crazed woman coming from who knows where!" Mr. Granger protested lowly.

"Mr. Granger, your daughter has a talent that needs supervision and she needs to learn how to use the gift she was born with. Hogwarts has had a long history teaching the brightest of this country. I can arrange a meeting to meet with the Headmaster and tour the school if you like."

"Our daughter will not be going to some freak school to hone in her Devil talents!" Mrs. Granger screeched.

Mr. Granger turned to his wife, silencing her with a glare. He turned back to her. "Our daughter does not have any talents, and has never exhibited any of the miracles you describe. She is a dull girl with no remarkable talents to speak of, if any talent at all. So I would appreciate if you left now."

"Mr. Granger," McGonagall said in a shocked voice. She could not image a person dragging their daughter through the mud like he had just done. She took a breath and tried again. "Hogwarts is not a school for Devils, as your wife just claimed. It is for young children who need to be taught the basics of magic. Your daughter will not be considered an evil thing for coming to the school; she will be quite safe. Think of it as a higher form of education. Your daughter would be on scholarship, learning how to control her magic. It does not matter if you have not seen any of the accidental magic happening. I have been assured that your daughter is, indeed magical." McGonagall said firmly, eyeing the couple in front of her. They were both turning varying shades of red.

"Do not speak to me about magic schools and scholarships! I said no, and I mean it. My daughter will not leave this house!" Mr. Granger growled.

McGonagall watched as Mrs. Granger pulled him to the side. He shot one more evil look at her before giving his wife his attention.

"What if she is right?" she whispered to her husband. "This might be the only time we can get rid of that evil snit. If this crazy bitch wants her, why not let her? Tell her to never bring her back, too."

Professor McGonagall could not believe what she was hearing. Her mouth dropped as she listened.

"Think about it! Next time she could infect us! We cannot resist the Devil forever, and you and I both know what is in that girl. Nothing has worked!" Mr. Granger paused for a moment, taking in his wife's words.

"Mr. Granger, I can see you and your wife are upset, perhaps we should just calm down and talk some more, you do not want to do anything you will regret." McGonagall edged.

Mr. Granger looked up, straightening with a truly terrifying look upon his face. "LIKE HELL I DO!"

He marched smartly over to the couch where the girl was sitting, and dragged her roughly by the neck. He practically flung the girl at her, and before McGonagall could react she helped catch the girl's balance. She considered cursing the two adults before her, but knew it wasn't legal. How could they treat their child like this?

Mr. and Mrs. Granger both began yelling once more.

"You want the little freak? You can have her! Little devil spawn can be your problem now! I don't care! Not looking so eager now are you? Well I am not taking her back. Her mum and I have been dealing with her shit ever since she was young. So take her! Pack and go! Don't be here when we get back! Let's go dear!" Mr. Granger grabbed his coat and his wife and stormed out, shouting curses until doors and cars blocked him.

To say McGonagall was in shock was an understatement. Never, in her long history had parents stormed out with the intent of leaving their child. She was entirely alone with Hermione Granger. She looked down at the girl who was trying to discreetly edge away from her. Well, if her parents had truly abandoned her, then Hermione Jean Granger was her responsibility now.

She laid her hand on the girl's shoulder gently. Hermione flinched at this simple contact, not that McGonagall had expected anything less. She was a stranger to this girl after all.

She led the girl down the hall, looking quickly for a room that looked like the girl's. She nearly missed, so plain and empty the room appeared. But the book on horses at the desk was decidedly childish, and it was this rom she led the Hermione in.

"What do you wish to take with you, Hermione?" she asked firmly, hoping the girl wouldn't burst into hysterics until they got to a hotel. It had to be traumatic, one's own parents leaving you. McGonagall's heart reached out to Hermione, but she stayed firm, knowing a soft heart now would only make the young child break down.

The child didn't ask any questions, or complain like McGonagall expected. Hermione merely stacked a pitiful amount of clothes on the bed. She set a small pile of books on the bed as well, not a single toy in sight. McGonagall thought it increasingly odd and worrying, that a household with such lavish decorations in the house, there was not a single toy for the only daughter of a rich family. She was beginning to conclude that the outburst was not one of surprise of shock, but of heartfelt sentiment. She could see that Hermione was trying to hold back tears, and it was valiant effort. Her respect for the little girl rose in that moment as she gathered her belongings quietly and efficiently.

Hermione stopped moving, standing beside the bed with expectant eyes. McGonagall waved her wand at the pile, vanishing it from sight.

"Come along now, child." McGonagall turned and walked down the hallway, holding the front door open for her. She didn't bother to lock the door; if Mr. and Mrs. Granger got robbed, she hadn't a care. She reached down for Hermione's arm, fully intending to get out of this place as soon as possible. Hermione flinched at the contact, and she felt the need to explain.

"I am about to preform something called side long apparition. It will be slightly uncomfortable, but think of it as instant teleportation, of a sort. Alright, Miss Granger?" McGonagall knew the girl didn't truly understand, but it was the only way to get to where she needed to go in a timely manner. Hermione nodded uncertainly at her, and McGonagall wasted no more time.

In what seemed merely a moment to her, she apparated to a side alley of the Diagon shopping center. Hermione immediately collapsed on her all fours beside her. McGonagall distastefully remembered her own first experience side long apparating. She laid a comforting hand on the girl's back, surprised at Hermione's violent reaction. She cringed from McGonagall like an evil creature of the dark.

"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered to her. "Give me but a moment." McGonagall nodded in surprise, knowing the girl on the ground could not see her. McGonagall straightened and looked around. This street was always deserted, off Diagon Alley.

After a moment, Hermione got to her feet. McGonagall worriedly noted that she seemed extremely fatigued. She offered Hermione her hand, not entirely sure if she would take it. The girl stared at it for a long moment before accepting it. McGonagall let out a sigh of relief, though she wasn't sure why.

They walked out of the alley slowly; McGonagall spoke softly to the girl. "I am sorry you had such a violent reaction. First times are usually the worst, but it was the most convenient way to get anywhere quickly unless you want to be tossed about by that terrible Knight Bus."

Hermione just nodded, taking her words for granted, McGonagall supposed. She was disconcerted that Hermione hadn't asked a single question of her so far.

As they entered Diagon alley, and McGonagall noticed that Hermione was not as numb as she looked. Her head turned this way and that, taking measuring looks at the people and stores. That gave her some relief, she was becoming more concerned over Hermione's condition with every step they took. How could she not notice the way her eyes jerked around, not looking at something for too long? Or the way her walk limped? And that horrible makeup on the small girl's face: what did that hide?

"Come along, we are almost there," she encouraged Hermione, seeing the building she aimed for up ahead.

She helped the girl up the stairs, quietly casting a strengthening charm on her when Hermione began showing signs of distress. Hermione needed to lie down immediately. She did not know exactly what was wrong with Hermione as of yet, but she planned on finding out. A sick feeling in her stomach told her what may be hurting young Hermione, but she did not draw any conclusions yet.

She quickly booked a room and headed down the hallway. Hermione followed, and McGonagall opened the door quickly. She heard Hermione's gasp of delight and surprise at the large room before her. She felt a rush of jubilation from making the girl happy, at least for the moment.

She let Hermione go to the window, trying to figure how to go about this in a way that wouldn't frighten her. McGonagall walked up behind the girl stiffly. She was about to open her mouth when Hermione tuned towards her.

McGonagall rubbed her fingers together nervously; knowing what she was going to ask Hermione would be embarrassing for her. She frowned; raising her fingers for inspection after finding them surprisingly sticky. Red juice was on her fingers. No, juice wasn't this thick. What had she touched lately? Only Hermione's back…

McGonagall looked up in horror at Hermione, who was blushing furiously. The blood didn't seem to be helping her, for Hermione swayed and toppled suddenly.

McGonagall saw her begin to fall and stepped forward as a reflex to catch the girl. Hermione collapsed in her arms. McGonagall would not count herself as a strong woman in the way of muscles, she was wisp thin and she knew it. But she could pick up Hermione with ease; she weighed lighter than air.

McGonagall swiftly set her on the bed. If McGonagall was good at one thing, it was thinking quickly in a crisis. She immediately searched for the source of blood. She didn't have to search far.

Hermione's back was mass of oozing wounds and scabs. Any skin left was heavily bruised, an ugly yellow green. McGonagall immediately vanished the bloodstained blue dress, leaving the girl only in her underclothes. She categorized each wound in a matter of urgency. Not only was her back marred, but her arms and legs had signs of burn marks and scars as well. McGonagall knew she would need to stop the more serious bleeding before taking Hermione to Saint Mungos. She levitated Hermione to the bathroom quickly, summoning a padded table to lay her on.

She went to work immediately, one healing spell after another. It was only when the danger passed and Hermione sleeping peacefully in the large hotel bed did she begin to feel the anger. Minerva McGonagall had never in her life felt such fury at another human being. Their odd behavior made perfect sense now. As much as she wanted hold on to the anger, the righteous fury melted at the next emotion that wracked her body. She was protective of the small, hurt girl lying unconscious. She felt visibly sick knowing the child beside her had suffered terribly at the hands of her own parents. McGonagall looked down at the pale, curled up child on the bed. McGonagall tucked a stray hair away from the child's face, intently watching Hermione's face, peaceful in sleep. In that moment, she vowed to help Hermione Granger in any way she could.

She needed to contact Dumbledore.

OoOoOo

The dull red light hit Hermione's eyes. She kept her eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of warmth enclosed around her. She felt protected, almost. She began to hear muffled voices. It was like marshmallows were in her ears. She concentrated, making out two different voices.

"Are you sure you want to do this Minerva? We do not know the extent she has been pushed, she could become terribly hard to handle."

"Albus, you speak as if she is a beaten puppy. She cannot go back to her parents, if you can even call them that. They nearly beat her to death! I spent an hour on her back alone Albus! She will have those scars forever. If not with me, then allow me to find someone worthy."

"No, Minerva, I will have the temporary papers signed by the end of today. If what you say is true, Mrs. and Mr. Granger will not mind signing them as well. We will see how things progress next summer, if it should be permanent or not."

"You saw her memory as well as I did, do you think it will be enough for the Wizengamot to take legal action?"

"The problem will be getting her permission to use her memory in court, otherwise, they may just get a fine and a loss of their daughter. I took her memory as an emergency, but I cannot use it in a court without her express approval."

"I see. Thank you, Albus."

"Anytime, Minerva. But perhaps this Christmas, you can remember I like lemon drops?"

Hermione stirred at the odd words, opening her eyes to the well-lit room. She narrowed her eyes immediately, the light hard to adjust to. But adjust her eyes did, and she looked around the room. She was in a place she could hardly describe, even to herself. The ceilings were incredibly tall, like a citadel she read about in her art books. This obviously was not her room.

Row upon row, pristine white beds lined the wall. Matching stands stood beside each bed. All of them were empty except the one she occupied. There were 12 beds in all, and an enormous double door stood at the far end of here she lay. They looked incredibly heavy, she doubted she would be able them on her own. She was next to a huge window at opposite end of the doors. She was in the last bed in the row.

She sat up and looked around, not seeing anything that could connect with the voices she heard. She turned towards the window, looking out in amazement at the view. She saw well-kept lawn slope downward until it became flat and in the distance, she could see strange looking things. They were like a bubble blowing sticks of enormous proportions, she almost laughed at that thought. Beyond that she could see thick trees covering on as far as she could see. She guessed wherever she was; it had a bit of height to it.

She frowned as the night's events came back to her. Tears filled her eyes and poured over. Hermione let her head fall in her hands, drawing her knees up to her. She sobbed; she missed her parents, and her room. She wasn't mad at her parents for saying those awful things; Hermione knew how true every word was. She hoped they didn't mean she couldn't ever come back. She loved them, she would do anything for them. She didn't mean to be evil, she would try harder to be good, she swore!

The sound of a door opening put Hermione in a panic. She quickly wiped her face and eyes, trying to rid herself of the tears. She looked around wildly for the source of the sound. From a side door she didn't notice until now, three people walked towards her. One she recognized, Professor McGonagall, was it? The other two were entirely unfamiliar to her. A man with an extremely long white beard and pointy hat, and a woman who reminded her of a nurse stood in front of her. Hermione looked to the heavy set doors and wondered if she should make a break for it.

But it was too late; they were too close. She would never make it. She took a final swipe at her eyes and hoped it wouldn't show. Her parents would be mad at her for crying; she would be better.

The man with the odd clothes and beard spoke first. "Hello, Hermione, my name is Albus Dumbledore. You must be very confused as to where you are right now, but I can assure you, any question can be answered."

Hermione noticed the distinction between "can" and "will" be answered. But she didn't voice it. She looked at McGonagall. She seemed more relaxed than she did before, Hermione wondered why.

"This," Dumbledore carried on after getting no reaction, "is Madame Pomfrey. She is the school nurse; she has been taking care of you since you got here two days ago. It is nice to see you up and awake, if I may say so."

Hermione could have sworn Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. Hermione touched her cheek, makeup gone from her face. "Two days?" she whispered to herself. She didn't see the concerned glances passed between the three adults.

"Yes," McGonagall answered. "Madame Pomfrey here got you all healed up in the meantime."

Hermione looked up just in time to see Madame Pomfrey smiling at her. She looked confusedly at the three adults. "W—where am I?" she asked softly.

"Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Dumbledore said rather cheerfully. He reached in his pocket and offered her a box. Hermione took it cautiously, reading the label. Bertie Bots Every Flavored Jellybeans? What on Earth?

"Where are my parents?" Hermione looked up hopefully. "Are they coming to get me?" Hermione desperately hoped whatever happened last night… two days ago, was all just a misunderstanding. Her parents wouldn't leave her alone here. They loved her. Hermione loved them.

The three adults now looked decidedly awkward. It was McGonagall that spoke up. She sat on the edge of the bed carefully, looking Hermione in the eye.

"Hermione, when we found you, you were in bad shape. You were hurt, very badly. People who run the Government, they disagree with the way your parents treated you. It has been decided that you will stay at Hogwarts full time until a later date. Do you understand, Hermione? Do you need me to explain it a different way?" McGonagall asked softly, searching her eyes.

Hermione couldn't believe what she was hearing, her parents not treating her right? That wasn't right, she was the bad one! She couldn't stop the tears running down her face now, no matter how hard she tried.

"Please, that's wrong, I am the bad one! I am the one who needs to be punished; they were helping me! Take me back, please! I'll be good I promise, I'll try harder!" Hermione reached for McGonagall's arm, and was surprised when she let her.

"Hermione, there is nothing wrong with you. Nothing wrong at all. You are a perfect little girl." McGonagall insisted sternly.

"No! I'm evil! Don't hurt my parents, please, let me see them, I want to be with my parents. Don't take me away from my parents please. I'm the evil one; they were only helping. I need to be punished!" her tears were uncontrollable; she was having a hard time forming words. "I'm the bad one!" she screamed.

McGonagall looked in distress to Dumbledore, who was looking at Hermione with shock and pity. Dumbledore spoke a few quiet words to Madame Pomfrey, and she soon returned with a potion.

"Come on lass, take small sips of this now." Madame Pomfrey urged.

Hermione fought at first, screaming for her parents. But Madame Pomfrey was a crafty witch; this wasn't her first rodeo with a screaming and scared child. She slipped a few drops in while the girl was screaming for her parents; the potion took effect immediately, calming the child down quickly. Soon she was curling up on her side, sniffling for her mum.

For several minutes the only thing the three adults did was observe the now sleeping child. All three had matching looks of concern and dismay.

"Azkaban is too good for them." McGonagall spat out before turning toe to heel and marched out of the Infirmary.

Albus nodded thoughtfully, but before leaving, he tucked the sleeping child back under her covers. Albus nodded to Madame Pomfrey, and he to left.

Madame Pomfrey had a brainwashed child in her care, with so many wounds it would take the entire summer to address. Looking at the child now, she wiped a stray tear away. How could any parent do this to their child? She smoothed the bushy hair out of the child's face. The bruise was nearly gone, but the child's memory would not disappear so easily.

Though she hated to say it, the child would be good for Minerva. She couldn't remember a time she saw that woman express any sort of emotion willingly. Now she was smiling and trying to reassure a child she just met.

However, she didn't know if even Minerva could help the broken child.

Hermione slept dreamlessly.

**OoOoOo**

Hermione awoke alone and in the dark. She immediately froze, panic seizing her. Memories came to her faster than they did before. To test it, she reached her hand out; touching the window she knew was there. She sat up, her eyes adjusting to the dimness. She eased out of bed slowly, testing her muscles. Weak, always weak. She hobbled around to the other side of the bed, the side with the window. The sun was rising, she realized. She could see it just below the tree line, hiding from her. She lifted her hands, making a circle, placing the sun in between them. Hermione did this often at her home, whenever she could get up early enough. Her dad showed her how to do it, when she was really young. He would make up one half of the circle, and Hermione's small hand would make up the other, cupping their own, personal sun.

"That sun will always rise just for you, Hermione, and don't you forget it." He would always bop her on the nose with his finger after he said that.

The sun rose slowly, Hermione cheered it on silently. It crested the treetops, sending light throughout the lawn. She gave the sun a small smile for its hard work. She let her hands drop.

She turned to go back to the bed. She yelped in surprise, the nurse was standing by her bed already, watching her. She gulped nervously, hoping her noise hadn't made her angry.

They stood and stared at each other for a moment, until the nurse broke the silence. "Come on now, child, up and back into bed. Got to get you looked at."

Hermione didn't question her, she struggled to get back up into the bed, and it didn't seem so tall when she got off. Madame Pomfrey gave her a push with a small smile. She examined her thoroughly, while asking her questions.

"How old are you, then, Hermione?"

"Eleven," she answered. Hermione didn't mind answering the questions. She didn't see any harm in them yet.

"Ah that's a good age, I remember being that age, I had a lot of family. Brother and sisters coming out of my ears. Do you have any siblings?"

Hermione shook her head no. She always wished she did, but on the other hand, she didn't want to hurt her family ever. And what if her little sister made her mad and she ended up hurting them?

"What do you like to do in your free time? I like to heal people, and walk the grounds."

"I like to read books," she answered, so quietly Madame Pomfrey almost didn't hear it.

"Read? That's a great thing to do in your free time. Splendid. Turn over on your belly, please."

Hermione did as she asked, though rather apprehensively. But all the nurse did was rub lotion or something into her back carefully. Hermione tried not to think about the bad things that got her punished.

She finished and left for a short while, Hermione spent the time gazing out the window.

When Madame Pomfrey came back, she brought Professor McGonagall with her. The nurse set the tray she was holding on Hermione's lap, drawing her attention away from the window. It was so beautiful out; it was hard to look away. It was a big lunch, a sandwich and fruit salad, with a cup of tea. Hermione's stomach turned at the thought of the food.

"I'm not hungry," she whispered.

"Well, I can't leave until you eat it, so I hope you find an appetite before I have to use the bathroom," Madame Pomfrey joked.

Hermione took the sandwich, taking a hesitant bite before spitting it out. Her stomach rolled violently. She clapped a hand to her mouth. Madame Pomfrey was ready however, and she handed her a wastebasket.

It was a horrible experience, and Hermione didn't know if the two adults holding her hair out of the way and holding her hand made it worse or better.

"It goes either way," Madame Pomfrey chatted. "Either they devour the meal or the end up sick. Never really knew why personally. One of the mysteries of the body, but I suppose it has purpose."

Hermione nodded when she felt better. Professor McGonagall handed her a handkerchief. Hermione wiped her mouth with a shaky hand. Madam Pomfrey took the wastebasket and handed her in exchange a mug.

Hermione looked at her with suspicion, but the liquid in the cup didn't look the same color as the sleeping potion. Madame Pomfrey saw her looking and laughed. Hermione blushed and looked away immediately.

"I assure you it is not a sleeping potion, merely a nutrient drink. You'll have to take it until you can eat. That is what happens when you don't eat for several days."

Hermione took one last glance at the content of the cup before drinking in back quickly. She hesitated, waiting for a similar violent reaction. Nothing came back up, and she relaxed a bit.

"Good," Madam Pomfrey smiled, taking the cup. "I'll just leave you alone for a bit shall I?" Madame Pomfrey nodded at McGonagall, and walked away with a cheerful step.

Shortly, with a bang of a door, Hermione was alone with McGonagall. McGonagall took a deep breath and smiled at Hermione. She didn't know to be worried or reassured.

"Hermione, things will be difficult for you, I won't lie. But Hogwarts will be a good place for you. You will be staying at Hogwarts for the rest of the summer, and then school will start. Many students will come, and you will be one of them. There will be so many things to learn and friends to make. Madame Pomfrey and I will be here all summer for you. We will start slow, okay? Once you get your strength up we can walk the grounds and tour Hogwarts. Does that sound good to you?"

Hermione couldn't forget her parents, and knew she would have to bring them up again. But for a moment, she let herself imagine what McGonagall was saying. Hermione did want to explore. But she wanted her parents to be with her. She needed to make a plan to bring up again in a way they wouldn't put her to sleep again. So she gave an honest answer.

"That sounds nice," she admitted.

"I brought you something so you won't be bored lying around here." McGonagall brought out her wand and twirled it. A book popped into Hermione's lap.

Hermione picked the book up, appreciating the weight of it. It looked old and used, a favorite quality Hermione loved. She ran her hands over the cover, feeling the bumps and bevels.

"Thank you, I love books," Hermione murmured to her in gratitude.

"I know, someone told me." McGonagall nodded. "If you need someone to talk to, Madame Pomfrey and I are here and available at any time. I will check in on you soon." McGonagall rose, giving her a small smile.

Hermione gave a faint smile back.

After she left, Hermione looked back to the book. She read the title.

_**Hogwarts, A History**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's Notes**_

_**I do not own Harry Potter or the books.**_

_**There seems to be some confusion the moment I mentioned Luna on the scroll. Luna, though a delightful girl, will not be in a relationship with Hermione and Harry. I repeat, will not. Luna will have a sympathetic background to the both of them, but this is not a Lunar Harmony Fic. I apologize to those who may be disappointed.**_

_**This is a Hermione and Harry Fic.**_

_**My thanks to those who review.**_

**OoOoOo**

Hermione devoured the book as if she had not seen words in years. To her, it felt like she hadn't. It didn't feel like only a few days ago she was happy and at home with her parents. It felt like lifetimes. Hermione's life settled into an uneasy routine. Hermione latched onto it like a life preserver. Every morning, she would wake up and see the sunrise from her window. In her mind, it was her window, and only hers. Madame Pomfrey told her she could move around the beds if she liked, but Hermione continued to sleep in the one near her window. She almost feared that if she wasn't nearby, the sun would forget to rise and she would be left in the dark.

The logical side of her knew she was being absolutely ridiculous; the earth would turn and spin, meeting the sun each day. It didn't matter if she saw it rise or not. The sun would appear without her "help". But Hermione couldn't stop herself each morning, and she dragged herself out of bed to the window.

Then Madame Pomfrey would come in with a new batch of vile potions; Hermione suspected she used her as a guinea pig. She could eat real food now, so she would eat breakfast with Madame Pomfrey. She didn't understand why the nurse was still here at the school. It was summer after all; surely she had somewhere better to be?

Then, Madame Pomfrey left her for a while, and Hermione spent the time missing her parents and reading Hogwarts, A History. She had already finished the book, and she was amazed with its content. If half of the things were true, she didn't see someone writing in such detail for a lie, then Hogwarts would be interesting indeed. She was apprehensive of moving staircases and talking portraits, which was for sure. None of it seemed real. She didn't know if she wanted it to be real.

She watched whenever McGonagall or Madame Pomfrey used their wands. She knew they did it for her benefit, using it on pointless tasks like dusting the spotless infirmary or rearranging things around the room.

Hermione had never felt so confused in her life. She thought she always had a good understanding of right and wrong. Right was getting good grades, staying away from others, and ignoring her evil tendencies. Wrong was not listening to her parents, letting something odd happen, and talking to strangers.

But the longer she lay in the hospital bed, the more confused and tangled her thoughts became. Whether using her evilness was right and wrong was no longer clear to her. And if she was evil, was Professor McGonagall evil as well?

She had to suppress her tears because she already knew the answer. Evil was always wrong, so that meant by extension, using them was wrong as well. But she didn't believe McGonagall was evil! She had been nothing but nice to her, as well as Madame Pomfrey. But if they weren't evil, then how did anything make sense?

At lunch McGonagall would come and eat with her. She would tell her about the day so far, and what was interesting about her day. Hermione usually didn't say a word in these little meetings, not because she didn't have anything to say, but because she wasn't sure what she wanted yet. McGonagall didn't seem to mind her silence, she just chatted away, and for that Hermione was grateful. She couldn't stop the small smiles from escaping whenever McGonagall said something amusing.

Unless McGonagall gave her another book, Hermione was left alone to brood until dinner. In the quiet afternoon hours, she would get up and explore the airy room she was in. The cabinets near Madame Pomfrey's bedroom sparked her curiosity. There were all manners of bottles and powders behind the locked glass doors. She watched the liquids as they swirled in their jars and bottles, reading the labels but making no sense of them. She ached to know exactly what each one did, but was not ready to admit she had been looking at them. She had tried the doors on the opposite end of the room, and was hardly surprised when her original guess had been correct, the doors wouldn't budge.

Then, dinner would come around, and McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey both ate with her, using their wands to make chairs appear. Sometimes, Dumbledore joined them, and they talked amongst themselves about the day. Hermione hadn't formed an opinion about the odd man who visited her. He was always nice, but he seemed too eccentric to run a school.

She didn't know how Madame Pomfrey did it, but she always seemed to charm words out of her that she hadn't planned on giving. When she heard her thoughts on the Headmaster, Madame Pomfrey had just laughed, long and hard. Hermione didn't understand what was so funny, and let the matter drop.

A week had gone by, and Hermione was feeling utterly useless and lonely. At home she cleaned the house and took care of anything that needed to be done and lying about brought endless frustration to her, and she was quite furious what herself for letting her feelings get to her. She felt she spent the entire week crying, nonstop. It didn't matter that no one saw her; she didn't like feeling weak. All she wanted were her parents. They always knew what to say and what to do.

At dinner, her parents always went around the table, talking about their day. Hermione never minded she was last, and her days weren't that interesting anyhow. She didn't have anyone to talk to here. McGonagall said she could talk to her, but she wasn't sure about that. Hermione didn't want to bother her. Madame Pomfrey was okay, but she only liked talking about Hermione, and Hermione didn't want to talk about herself all the time. She had been told that talking about her own problems was selfish, and her parents hadn't been wrong yet.

But the longer she stayed in the infirmary, the more she dreaded facing the facts. It was almost a tangible fear, and she avoided all thoughts of it, hoping the nagging worry would simply disappear. She could only tell herself it was all a misunderstanding, and it would be sorted out soon. She would be back with her parents in no time. They couldn't keep her away from them forever, right? Her parents only needed to calm down. She had made them angry, after all. They would punish her, and then they would be a family again.

Night was the worst for her, though. She couldn't stop the nightmares. She refused to take the sleeping medicine; she didn't want to be gone days at a time, even if Madame Pomfrey assured her that wouldn't happen.

She could only suffer through the shapes and images that horrified her. She dreamed that she hurt her parents with her devilish powers. She dreamed of the night they stormed out, leaving her. She dreamed horrible things, and she couldn't fight them. Not in her sleep.

**OoOoOo**

But with night always came morning, and Hermione woke long after the sun rose. She frowned at the light coming from the window; she hadn't missed a sunrise since she had woken in the infirmary. She had experienced a rougher night than usual and had fallen asleep extremely late in the night. She fought the childish impulse to cry, she refused to cry over waking up late. There would be another one tomorrow, and the day after that. Why did she want to cry over something stupid?

She turned to the side table, trying to distract herself, and saw a tray with breakfast on the stand. She lifted it onto her lap, her mouth watering at the smell of the oatmeal. If there was one thing she loved, it was the smell of the oatmeal. She didn't know how Madame Pomfrey made it, but it always had the right amount of sugar and blackberries.

Hermione ate it quickly, downing the orange juice as well. She put the tray to the side, feeling disappointed that she missed the nurse for breakfast. The infirmary had an empty quality she didn't like. She shoved the blankets off her, angry that she even thought that. They were keeping her from her parents! She had no right to feel bad about anything!

She placed a foot on the cool floor, sighing heavily. What was the point of getting out bed? There was nothing to do. But she wasn't exactly tired. She looked around the room, searching for something to do. She spotted the cabinet with the potions in it. Now that she had a reason, she placed her other foot to meet the floor. She slid down, testing her balance. She had been out of the bed several times, and each time it was easier. Her back didn't bother her anymore, and Hermione was grateful for whatever magic potion Madame Pomfrey rubbed into her back each night. No one would give her a mirror, or let her see her back, so she imagined it was horribly ugly. She had already tried to twist around and look at it herself, but Madame Pomfrey caught her and shuffled her to bed.

It seemed Madame Pomfrey was obsessed with white. Hermione didn't know where the clothes she had packed disappeared to, but all Madame Pomfrey gave her to wear was several sets of white clothes. The sleeves were long, and the pants went right to the ankle. When she first saw them, they reminded her of what lady pirates would wear. The shirt was billowy, with little strings in the front of the neckline. The pants were form fitting, and when she tucked the shirt in, it held everything in place. She noted the cloth itself was strong and sturdy.

She had never worn anything quite like it, and they seemed to be made of the softest material she had ever felt. If she had to guess, she supposed they did some sort of magic to it to make it soft. If she had a red bandana to wrap her hair she would definitely look the part of a pirate! She was warmed at the thoughtfulness of whoever bought her the clothes; they hid her arms and legs, and the marks that went with them. A normal hospital gown would show what she was most ashamed of. She didn't want anyone to know how bad a child she was.

Hermione padded over to cabinet, her bare feet barely making a sound on the floor. She looked around to make sure Madame Pomfrey was lurking around. She shuffled closer, peering at the strangely twisted bottles. She lifted her hand, sending another searching glance around the empty infirmary. Still empty, she let out a breath, and tugged on the small knob. It moved as much as it did the first time, which was to say not at all.

Hermione huffed in disappointment. She looked around the room, looking for anything that would occupy her. She narrowed her eyes at the huge double door. She had an idea. She ran to her bed, pulling Hogwarts, A History from under the mattress. She flipped through the pages; looking for the map she remembered being illustrated.

She stopped suddenly, smoothing the page she wanted. It was a very basic drawing of the castle. She studied the map carefully, looking for Infirmary. She didn't find it, but she found a Hospital Wing. She smiled at her success. She looked at the map carefully, looking for what was beyond it. She flipped to a page describing the Hospital wing in greater detail. She had read this page more than once. It gave details of past great Magi witches and wizards who worked there, what was allowed to stay and when to hospitalize. It spoke of the completion and construction dates.

Hermione closed the book with a thump, her temper rising. She walked to the double doors. What if she got hurt? Or a fire started? How would she get out? She had already tried the door Madame Pomfrey came and went in. She gave the doors an experimental tug.

She paced the front door, looking for anything, perhaps a magical button or lever? But that seemed improbable to Hermione. Maybe if she said a magic word? The door had no keyhole; making the idea that it was locked seemed it was also a wrong conclusion.

She felt like a fool for what she was about to do. But what magic did she know really?

"Abracadabra!" she felt the heat race to her face at the stupidity of the word, even if there was no one around.

"Stupid door," she muttered. She thought hard at what would be a good word to get the door unlocked.

"Hocus Pocus? Bippty boppity boo? Alakazam?" The wooden door just stood there, mocking her. She tugged on it again, resting her fist against the smooth weathered wood.

Not for the first time, she felt like a prisoner. Sure, this was far nicer than a prison, but she felt disconnected from the outside world. She wondered what her parents were doing right now. Did they miss her? Who would keep the house clean without her? Did they sit down for dinner and look at her empty seat and wonder if she was okay?

She hoped they were all right. Hermione rubbed the sides of her forehead, trying to get rid of a headache. She let her hands fall to her sides. At home, she always knew what was expected of her. The stress and uncertainty was beginning to get to her. She took in a shuddering breath, letting her arms wrap around her, holding her together. She had to stay in control of herself; she knew what happened when she let herself go. But she missed her parents so much, and she was so lonely. Her eyes watered.

She could feel herself slipping, despair clouding her eyes. She leaned her head against the door. She had to fight it, she had to hide it… But it was too late, Hermione felt the evil rise within her, filling her body with warmth.

This was the part she hated most afterword, the warmth made her feel powerful, made her feel good. Made her feel in control. She shouldn't feel that way.

The evil pushed against her, straining to leave her body, but Hermione held it back best she could. The longer she fought it, the warmer she felt. She felt intoxicated by it, the power coursing through her veins, unwanted.

Hermione drew breaths quickly, the harshness reaching her ears; she held her arms tighter to her body. But once the Evilness came she could never get rid of it, it swamped her senses. Hermione dropped to her knees, tears running out of the corners of her eyes. "Stop, stop, stop," she chanted. "Stop, stop, stop." The evil rose to a crashing tempo, stopping her from focusing on anything else other than its power.

"Please!" she screamed desperately, before the last of her pitiful defenses were swept away.

The evil exploded outward from her, throwing her violently against the door. Hermione groaned as she slid to the floor. She shook her head slowly, her thoughts like muddled cotton. Her eyes refocused, any she took stock of any injuries she could have acquired.

She looked around, her mouth gasping in horror. Beds were flipped, ripped apart and flung across the room from her. A chunk from the ceiling had fallen through, making a dent in the floor where it had fallen. Papers and dust began to settle as she took it all in. All the windows, her window… it was shattered. Wind from the outside fluttered through, strong enough for Hermione to feel it.

She was a monster. An evil thing, with no discipline. Hermione began to shake. She drew her legs close to her body, covering her head with arms.

This is my fault, she thought. All my fault. My parents were right, I am a monster. I should be left alone, deserted somewhere I can't hurt anyone. Hermione hardly noticed she was muttering. All she knew was this was her fault, she was dangerous. She didn't know how much time passed while she sat there.

Arms reached down and held her up. Hermione cowered away. She would hurt them.

"Hermione! Calm down, you are not going to hurt me!"

Had she been saying that out loud? Hermione looked up, her eyes searching wildly. McGonagall was holding her up, why would she do that; didn't she know she was dangerous? She could escape out the window. The window was approximately five feet high, three feet wide, the logistics of jumping were very… McGonagall visibly tightened her hold on her. Was she saying her thoughts out loud?

She should hide her thoughts, this was her fault, and she should be punished. Would Madame Pomfrey hit her for destroying her infirmary?

"I am not going to hit you Hermione and neither is Madame Pomfrey, take deep breaths for me please. Deep breath in, deep breath out." McGonagall soothed.

Deep breaths? She didn't deserve to breathe, she didn't deserve anything. Evil deserved no light.

"Come on baby girl, you see me? Do as I do, deep breath, come one now. Like me."

Hermione focused on the sound, McGonagall drew in a deep breath, and Hermione subconsciously did the same. She mirrored McGonagall, drawing ragged breaths through her shell-shocked body. The minutes drew out, and Hermione regained some sense calm.

Madame Pomfrey's voice broke through her senses. "Here you are Minerva, bring her over now."

Hermione let herself be led to a bed. Madame Pomfrey was waving her wand erratically, muttering things under her breath. Things flew left and right, putting themselves back to their original places. Window shards rearranged themselves into panes, toppled beds screeched as they tuned over. Papers flew back into stands and broken legs reattached back. The chunk of rock rose slowly back to the ceiling. Within a moment, the room was back to normal.

McGonagall set her firmly on the bed, handing her a tray for lunch.

"Eat." Her voice would not be disobeyed.

Hermione ate the lunch, though she wasn't hungry. The meal tasted like sandpaper to her as her apprehension rose, would she be punished? She finished the meal, looking up at Madame Pomfrey, who was waiting for her to finish. McGonagall was waving her wand at the ceiling.

McGonagall joined them. "All put back together again," McGonagall smiled, Hermione saw how tense it was.

"Well, let's get down to business." Madame Pomfrey huffed happily. "You are a witch Hermione. And when young witches experience extreme emotions, sometimes the magic in them pops out."

McGonagall sat on the bed next to her. "Every young witch and wizard experiences at least once in their life Hermione. There is nothing you can do to stop it until you get a wand."

"Why don't you tell us what happened? That way Professor McGonagall and I know what the matter is?" Madame Pomfrey urged.

Hermione didn't want to answer the questions. She wanted them to leave before she hurt them.

Madame Pomfrey was not a witch who gave up easily. "Let's see shall we, I came in this morning and you were fast asleep. What happened when you woke up? Let's start there."

Hermione took a deep breath. "I missed the sun." She stated quietly.

Madame Pomfrey nodded. "Were you upset you didn't get up in time?"

Hermione nodded, wiping her sleeve across her face. "Everything was locked, the cabinet was locked, and the doors were locked. I tried to open the door, but it wouldn't open."

"Why did you want to open the door?" McGonagall asked.

"I- was lonely, I wanted to go outside. I wanted to see my parents." Hermione sniffled.

"I see." Madame Pomfrey could not stop the feeling of pity within her for the child.

"I couldn't stop it, I tied to. Honest I did." Hermione looked up pleadingly.

McGonagall wrapped an arm around the small girl ignoring the cringe. She curled the child into her side, giving her a gentle hug. "We know you did Hermione. We aren't blaming you, not at all. One of should have been here for you."

"How are you feeling now?" Madame Promfrey inquired.

"I—feel better." And she did, surprisingly. She felt relaxed almost. She knew the thoughts and feelings would come back, when she was alone.

"Then let's go take a walk." McGonagall stood.

"I daresay a walk is certainly called for," Pomfrey agreed. "But she needs to change before you do."

Hermione looked down at her words, seeing the white clothes dirty with dirt and dust. Madame Pomfrey summoned a clean set of clothes and handed them to her. She also handed her sandals to walk in. They discreetly turned their backs so she could have privacy.

Hermione dressed quickly; they were the exact copies of her ruined ones. She coughed to get the women's attention when she was done. Hermione didn't understand the reasoning behind going for a walk; did she really deserve getting what she wanted after destroying the room?

"Don't I need to be punished?" She asked desperately.

McGonagall walked over and took her hand; Hermione physically resisted flinching at the contact. "I don't think punishment is necessary." McGonagall led her over to the double doors, waving her wand at them, and they began to open. Hermione tried not to let her frustration get to her at the sight of them being opened with such ease.

It was a defining moment for Hermione when she stepped across the threshold into new territory. Her head whipped this way and that, trying to take in the cavernous halls and the empty classrooms as they passed. The entered and even wider hall, turning right and away from some extremely ornate doors that reached the ceiling. After that, it was only a moment before they were outdoors, in the sunlight. They wound their way down to what Hermione realized was a lake. McGonagall released her hand when they got to the water's edge. The wind blew through her hair, bringing the scent of freshly cut grass, the smell of earth and trees. Hermione inhaled deeply, wanting to wrap herself in the smell.

McGonagall bent to remove her shoes, and Hermione watched her as she stepped up to the water's edge.

Hermione removed her sandals easily, stepping into the cool mud and water. She only went ankle deep, a toe at a time, pulling up the hem of her pants as McGonagall did.

She closed her eyes, feeling the wind and water and heat. The week had been miserable, and this seemed like a small escape. McGonagall's voice drifted over to her, soft and gentle.

"The world is a dangerous place to live, not because of the people who are evil, but because of the people who don't do anything about it."

Hermione looked at her curiously.

"I know what you think about yourself, but being something evil needs a will to do it. Life does not have a black and white view like you think. There are gray areas, and I wouldn't count yourself on the dark end of the spectrum just yet, Hermione."

Hermione looked out over the water, the sun glinting off the surface, like a thousand diamonds, thinking about what she had just said.

**OoOoOo**

Albus Dumbledore did not consider himself a fool very often. But for every man, such a time came when the honest thing to do was admit it to himself. Albus had spent the day spying on a specific house in Privet Drive. Albus had never preferred the Muggle cul-de-sacs most seemed so fond of.

He watched, invisible, as a young Harry Potter, the Chosen One of the Wizarding World, worked in the heat of a summer day with very little breaks. He watched as the boy worked, doing more than his share of chores, cooking, cleaning, and being beaten upon by what looked like a baby whale that was the young Dudley Dursley.

Albus had checked up on Harry periodically, but never more than a few moments at a time. He wished now, that he had perhaps spent a little more time doing so. Albus was appalled by young Miss Hermione Granger's situation. He had been certain there was a reason those names showed of it red, despite what he told the Board. After Miss Granger had been brought in, Albus immediately became worried, checking his wards to assure Harry was alive. When news came back that from the Lovegoods, concern became alarm. Miss Luna Lovegood survived a deadly explosion that claimed her mother certainly put her in mortal danger.

Albus had spent several days on and off, with Minerva, watching Harry, and he did not like what he saw. Albus was a forgiving man, and he knew it was hard raising a willful child. He had after all, ran the school for nearly 50 years! So he had not given it much thought when reports came in, discussing Mrs. and Mr. Dursley's punishment habits, or the reports of young Harry's disgruntled appearance. Young boys, of course, did get messy and dirty.

But looking at it with his own eyes, he saw he owed Minerva an apology, for she was indeed right. Minerva usually was, but Albus knew he was a bit thickheaded at times. He almost yelled in righteous anger as Mrs. Dursley swung a pan at the boy's head, with full intention to hit him.

The Dursleys, he concluded, were not fit to raise a child. He had returned to Hogwarts with the full intention of getting Minerva's advice on how to proceed with the situation. But Madame Pomfrey was quite insistent to leave Minerva alone at the moment. Dumbledore listen with a grave ear at the report Madame Promfrey gave him. He was relieved no one was hurt, as well as having proof the girl was a witch after all. Dumbledore would not turn out young Hermione if it did turn out she was only a muggle, but it did give him certain sense of relief.

He thought it admirable that Minerva decided to help the young witch herself. Albus was sure in time Minerva would be a good guardian to Hermione.

Albus resolved to pick the boy up himself, and hoped Minerva didn't chew him out later. She could be quite vicious when she wished.

**OoOoOo**

Hermione was relaxed, and accepted McGonagall's hand as they stepped out of the water. Her feet tickled when McGonagall cast a spell to dry their feet. They continued on their walks, McGonagall helpfully pointing out different spots. She explained the history of the Whomping Willow, and the Forbidden forest.

When they got closer the strange things she saw from her window, Hermione could not help but ask.

"What are those?" She asked, pointing to the top of the stadium, the big sticks with "O" peeking out above them.

McGonagall jumped at her question, clearly not expecting her to speak.

"That is a Quidditch goalpost, it is used in a sport involving brooms and flying ball, much like a mixture of golf and basketball in the muggle world." Hermione stored the information for later. She tried to imagine herself in the air with nothing but a broom. The idea was laughable, brooms.

The sun began to descend before McGonagall suggested they head back. They had been far over the grounds. Hermione nodded in assent, and they began to head back. Hermione's hand managed to find its place in McGonagall's, and they reached the Hospital Wing sooner than Hermione would have liked.

She ate in silence with McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey.

"Thank you for taking me outside," she said, thanking them both quietly as they rose.

McGonagall smiled in return, dipping her head in appreciation.

"No trouble at all, now if you need me, just say my name, and I will come right in, all right?" Madame Pomfrey huffed, tucking her in.

They soon left, leaving Hermione alone with her thoughts. She fell asleep with fresh air and open skies swirling through her mind.

**OoOoOo**

Hermione woke sometime in the night, woken by muffled voices. She recognized the three voices. She lay still on her side; she was facing away from them. There were some rustles and the sound of a bed being turned down. After a while the voices faded, she heard the door close.

Hermione turned over slowly, looking around for a difference or change. Three beds down, she could see lump in the covers. Hermione sat up, sliding the covers off her. She dangled her legs over the bed, trying to muster the courage to go over and see what the adults had brought. A nagging fear warned her not to mess with what she didn't know. Before she could make up her mind, the lump moved.

"Is anyone there?" A voice whispered out. It was undoubtedly a boy's voice, sounding scared, as Hermione was herself.

Hermione dropped down from the bed and made her way over. "Don't be scared, it's only me."

As Hermione got closer, she could make out the details of the boy's face. He wore thick-rimmed glasses, that were slightly askew. Hermione guessed her had put them on rather hastily seeing her approach.

He was terribly skinny, the white clothes on him extremely baggy. He was sitting up, squinting at her. She moved a bit closer so he could see her better.

"Who are you?" he asked. He looked around the infirmary, looking for more kids, perhaps?

"It's only me here, I've been here for a week or so. My name is Hermione Granger, what's yours?" She stuck her hand out impulsively; her parents always told her shaking hands was a proper way to greet people.

The boy looked back at her, noticing her hand. He smiled taking her hand delicately, as if afraid to break it. "My name's Harry Potter."

His eyes flashed to her uncertainty. They locked gazes for a moment. "Well, it's nice to meet you," Hermione smiled softly.

**Notes: Thank you to my two Beta's. Laura013 and Daughter of the Lion. Your help has already been invaluable. I am looking forward to a long story with you guys at my side. I would also like to thank Lyanah, a reviewer who goes beyond simple explanation, Texan-Muggle has my thanks as well**.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Thank you for reading and reviewing, my thanks to my Beta(s)**

Hermione lay in her bed, awake with her thoughts. It was the boy three beds down that kept her up. She was hyperaware of his presence, knowing she was not alone within the infirmary was both a balm and frustration. She had never seen such a boy like Harry. The potent combination of baggy clothes and those terrible patched up glasses made him look sickly and pale. But he had seemed so completely happy to be here, and Hermione wondered why. Did he want to be here? Where had he come from?

After she had introduced herself, she removed herself from the situation, knowing that Harry had to be tired. But now she lay in the darkness, knowing she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. She turned to her side, frustrated with herself. She should have just asked him why he was here, instead of leaving. But that would be rude, and Hermione couldn't be rude. That was a wrong thing to do, right?

But now she couldn't sleep. She almost laughed at the thought; she hadn't been able to sleep since she got here! Why was she blaming her problems on Harry?

She quit pretending to sleep, fluffing her pillow for lack of anything to do. She sat up, brushing her hair out of her face. A noise to her right made her turn in surprise. It was the creaking of a bed, and she saw a small figure moving towards her.

Strangely, she wasn't scared, and she waited for the figure to appear. Harry moved to the side of her bed, even in the dark she could see his sheepish smile.

"Hello, Harry," she said softly.

"Can you sleep? 'Cause I can't."

Hermione shook her head, a small smile gracing her face. "I haven't slept well since I've been here. You can come up, if you want," she offered, motioning to the opposite side of the bed. She didn't know why she offered, but Harry interested her, and maybe she was tired of being alone in the dark.

Harry beamed, and Hermione felt her heart stutter for a moment. How did someone look so happy?

"Wait a moment, I'll be right back!" Harry whispered as he disappeared from her sight.

Hermione heard rustling before Harry showed up again with a blanket and pillow in his arms. He was so skinny, the blanket dwarfed him, making it appear like a floating pile of blankets advanced toward her rather than a boy. He tossed the pillow and blanket on the bed. Hermione gave him her arm to help him up to the bed. She pulled him up, dragging him onto the bed.

Harry settled across form her, wrapping the blanket around himself and arranging the pillow to his liking.

"They really made the beds tall, didn't they?" Harry observed, cutting through any tension.

"I thought I was the only one who had a problem with it," Hermione smiled. "I think it is to discourage us from leaving our beds." Hermione did wonder, with all the magic they seemed to have, that they didn't make the bed magically lower for her, but she had thought it a foolish question.

"So you can't sleep at night either?" Harry asked.

Hermione's eyebrows drew down, along with her frown.

"You don't have to answer, if you don't want to." Harry added quickly, seeing her face.

She drew in a breath. For some reason, she didn't want to lie to him. "I have nightmares, sometimes. All the time, honestly. They make it hard to sleep, or want to go to sleep," She lowered her eyes, not wanting to see his reaction. She knew she was weird, but she didn't want to lose her new friend before she even knew him.

The silence drew on, and Hermione chanced a glance up. Harry was nodding, the look in his eyes understanding.

"Y—you don't think t—that's weird?" Hermione asked hesitantly. Harry only shook his head.

"I have nightmares too, I know what you mean," Harry was now the one with downcast eyes, hiding his face from hers. Hermione reached out her hand, touching him lightly on the shoulder. "What are your dreams about?"

Harry looked uncomfortable, shifting his weight. "You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to," Hermione told him, repeating the same phrase he had just said.

Harry smiled a little at the phrase. "Flashes of things, really. Its fuzzy. Flashes of green light, screaming, almost every night. I don't know what it means. What about you?"

Hermione sighed, looking at her hands. "My parents mostly, leaving me, or people taking me. Hurting them, me hurting them."

"Oh," Harry said, eyes downcast.

"Where did they take you from?" Hermione asked curiously.

"A suburb in Little Wingington. They didn't take me; I asked them to take me. Want me to tell you about it?"

Hermione nodded, playing with the end of the blanket, settling back into the pillow.

**OoOoOo**

Harry had spent the day gardening in the hot July heat. His Aunt Petunia had riled herself into a cleaning spree, which basically meant ordering him around to do the cleaning for her. Once he had finished the inside of the house, his Aunt ordered him into the garden. Harry thought it a useless garden, with flowers and bushes crowding the backyard. He weeded until his arms felt as if they would fall off at any moment. That in itself was something Harry was used to, but the muggy weather and blazing sun made it all the more miserable. His gray clothes were heavy with sweat, and it took everything he had to drag himself upstairs to shower off at his Aunt's insistence.

Petunia screeched, "Only five minutes, boy! Water is precious!" A soapy pot was almost slammed into him for dragging his feet through the kitchen. Harry knew the muddy footprints were the only reason he was allowed to take a shower.

But he made the most of it, turning the water as cold as he could take. He kept his mouth open, swallowing as much water as he could, knowing when he left the shower he would be back to work. The cold water on his skin was a blessing, and he forced himself to shiver through it. But soon, his Aunt was banging on the door, threatening to drag him out herself. Harry got dressed in a new set of clothes, if they could be called new; he only ever got the hand me downs from Dudley. Dudley was so undecidedly huge that anyone would have trouble fitting in his clothes. Harry bunched the extra material and tied it into a knot, opening the door after rolling up his pant legs.

He dragged himself down the stairs, to find his Aunt and Uncle dressed to go. They had been dressed all morning this way and Harry guessed they only stayed to make sure he did the work.

"Your Aunt and I are going out," Vernon growled angrily. "We are taking Dudley with us. You will stay here, and you will not touch a thing! Do you understand me, boy?"

Harry nodded, trying not to show his excitement.

"Are you sure we should leave him alone? That boy has thief in his blood," his Aunt shrilled worriedly, acting as if Harry was not even in the room.

"No, mummy! Harry would just ruin the entire outing! Leave him here, pleaseeee!" Dudley came up behind Harry, pouting at his mother. Harry edged away from his cousins fists, Dudley didn't care who he hit when he threw a tantrum, and he cared about Harry even less. It was safer then, to take himself as far as he could from Dudley's reach.

"He is right, dear. Besides, if he does try anything," Vernon eyed Harry viciously, poking him in the chest with a meaty finger, "then it will be the shed with nothing to eat for a couple days." Harry gulped. The shed in this heat would be a sauna, and he did not doubt that his uncle would do it too.

"I won't do anything!" Harry protested.

"Quite right you won't," Vernon growled. "Let's go, before we are late. I am this close to closing the deal with the off sea drilling company, and I don't want to make a bad impression."

The family left, throwing Harry dirty looks as they stepped through the threshold. The lock clicked, and Harry was alone. Harry stood still, waiting until he heard the rumble of the car pull out and become nothing but distant background noise.

He burst into action, racing to the kitchen, sliding on the shiny, waxed linoleum. He observed everything in the kitchen, noting what was where. He got out a plate and cup, setting it on the table. He opened the fridge, his mouth watering at all the leftovers preserved in their plastic containers. He grabbed any his arms could hold, placing them on the table as well. He scooped small portions of each on his plate, small enough they wouldn't notice them gone. Soon he had a heaping plate of leftovers, and he poured himself a can of pop. The missing can would be harder to hide, but Harry didn't care, he was starving. He wolfed down the food, trying his hardest to space it out, to enjoy it.

Perhaps, if Harry had not been so engrossed in eating, he would have heard the encroaching rumble of a car. As it was, Harry knew his life may as well be over when he heard the lock on the door retract. He froze, listening in horror at the sound of the door creak open. Harry launched himself in action, throwing everything in the trash, knowing he wouldn't have time to hide it. He looked at the table desperately, looking around the kitchen as well for anything out of place.

But it was too late, and his uncle came into the kitchen, looking at Harry suspiciously. He walked up to the table, and grabbed something on it. It looked like invitation letters. Vernon looked around the kitchen, then back at Harry.

"Why are you in here, boy? You look suspicious; I hope you didn't do anything that would get you… in trouble." He hissed wickedly at Harry. Vernon smirked when he saw Harry gulp. Harry felt the food he had just eaten turning over in his stomach, anxiety eating away at him.

Vernon turned to leave, having satisfied his anger; only for something catch the view of his eyes. On the corner of Harry's mouth, was something red. Sauce? The boy was eating his food! Vernon turned, his face turning red with anger.

Harry saw the change, his heart falling through his gut. Vernon's face was turning a dark pink. Harry wildly glanced around for what had instigated the change. Vernon gave him no time to wonder, he stomped up to him grabbing his shirt by the front and shaking him. Harry felt as if his brain was being scrambled.

"You blasted boy! Thieving from the man that puts a roof over your head? Biting the hand that feeds you? It will be the shed for this boy!" Vernon raised his hand over him; Harry cringed and turned away from him, anticipating the blow.

"Mr. Dursley, putting a han' on that boy will be downright unadvisable." A voice gruffly warned.

Harry opened his eyes in shock. Standing in the kitchen doorway was the largest person Harry had ever seen. Not a Dudley large, but tall and heavy boned large. He wore a huge overcoat that looked slightly dirty, and he was holding an umbrella. A thick beard and scraggly hair covered most of his face. Harry scrunched his nose in confusion.

Vernon released Harry, causing him to stumble back a few feet against the kitchen wall. His Uncle turned slowly, his face turning a beet red. Harry felt sorry for whoever this man was; he hadn't seen anyone go up against his uncle without apologizing for their behavior at the end.

"Who are the hell are you to come in here telling me how I should discipline my children? How the hell did you get into my house?"

"'Ello Harry, how are ye holding up?" The man completely ignored his uncle.

Harry didn't dare answer with his Uncle being so near. The man didn't seem to be expecting an answer; he just looked around the room with obvious curiosity.

"I demand you get out of my house you… you vagabond! I won't stand for common filth entering my house uninvited!" Vernon threatened.

"Aw, shut your trap Dursley. I been askin' Dumbledore to let me pick up Harry years ago. But no use crying over spilled Bubotuber Pus, as they say. Yeh're a wizard Harry, Iv'e come to take yer away, if you want."

Harry jaw dropped, of all things to say that was the least he expected. "I'm a what?" he stuttered.

"That is quite enough! Stop talking this instant! I will not have this discussion, not at all! Get out of my house, you oaf!" Vernon yelled; his face a dangerous color. His fists curled at his side.

"A wizard. Like yer Mum and Dad. You can use magic. Ain't you ev'r wondere'd how you got tha' lighting scar on your head? Or all the crazy things tha' happen around yea Harry? That's magic at work."

"**STOP THIS FOOLISHNESS THIS INSTANT! I WILL CALL THE POLICE UNLESS YOU LEAVE RIGHT NOW**!" Vernon roared. "**STOP FILLING HIS HEAD WITH NONSENSE, WE SPENT YEARS BEATING THAT SILLINESS OUT OF HIS HEAD, AND I WILL NOT ALLOW YOU TO GO FILLING IT UP AGAIN**!"

Harry cringed at the volume; it hurt his ears terribly. But he also hung onto every word the large man spoke.

"I hav' had just bout nough of you, Dursley. I hav' been waiting too long to do this to yer!" The man raised his umbrella and pointed at his uncle. A thin steam of red sparks shot out of the tip and hit his uncle. Harry wasn't sure what it did to his uncle, but Vernon clapped his bum and let out a squeal that sounded unmistakably like a pig.

"I'll be takin Harry with me, and I expec' you will be getting a visit from Professor Dumbledore righ' soon. Now get outta here afore I do something ye will regret!"

Vernon shot a look of pure fury at Harry before running out the door. Harry found himself alone with the mammoth of the man. The man peered closely at him.

"I haven't seen you since yer were a baby, you grown a bit since then. Well, as it is Harry, yeh can either stay here with this lot, or I'll take you off. I'm Hagrid, by the way." The giant man stuck his hand out to Harry.

There was only one practical thing to do in Harry's eyes. This man had just saved him from a beating. Harry walked up to the Hagrid, putting his hand in his. Hagrid's hand was giant, larger than his hand, and as Hagrid shook it happily, his hand was engulfed. "You knew me as a baby?" Harry asked cautiously.

"Oh, aye, just a little lad. You are a spittin image of yer father, but yer eyes. Those are yer mother's eyes. Purest green I ever saw."

Harry just gaped, wishing he could up with something better than just standing there.

"So Harry, what's yer choice? I could leave yea here, if you want. I'd rather not, but Dumbledore said it was your choice. Good man Dumbledore. He's th' Headmaster of Hogwarts."

Harry felt the oddest emotion inside. Someone was asking him for his opinion, his choice? To decide for himself? His mind seemed to unfreeze and thaw, breaking through his stupor.

"Take me with you!" he burst out. A world without working all the day? A world without Dudley pummeling him with his fists? A world with choices? He would go and never look back.

Hagrid chortled, low and deep. "I been thinkin so. Come along then, you got yerself anything you wishin to take? We can talk on the way, if yer like."

Harry nodded, moving past the giant man and walked down the hall to his bed in the broom closet. He didn't have anything he would drag along except for one item. It was a small item; it would fit in his pocket. Years ago, when cleaning the attic he had come across a photo album. There he discovered one crumpled and slightly torn photo. It was a picture of two people Harry had never seen in his life. People he had never seen, but could recognize. The man looked like him and the writing on the back drew his attention.

_Petunia, I am sorry you couldn't come to our wedding, but I understand. It was a wonderful day, and I didn't want you to miss it. Your sister, Lily._

It was the only photo Harry had in the world of his parents. He unearthed it from underneath his pillow, tucking it deep into his pant pocket. He reemerged, giving a nod to Hagrid, who waited next to him. "Is that where you slept?" Hagrid asked, outraged.

"Yea, I won't be missing it." Harry answered. He looked at the small broom cupboard, locking it all in place in his mind.

"Well, that's jus' cruel, I'll be tellin' Dumbledore bout this Harry, res' assured." Hagrid appeared appalled, his mouth pulled down in a frown beneath his beard. "Well, if you got everthin', we best head off. Come alon' then." Hagrid opened the front door, squeezing his large frame through the door.

Harry followed him; taking a last glance at the place he had spent so much time. Would he see it again? Harry stepped out into the sun, looking around for Hagrid's car or cab. Instead, a monstrous motorcycle sat in the front lawn. Harry assumed it was Hagrid's, he couldn't see how anyone else could ride such a thing.

Hagrid was already straddling the motorcycle, turning it on and filling the street with a dull roar. He turned to Harry, a smile wide on his face. "And to think," he shouted at Harry, "last time you were on this motorcycle, you were small enough to fit in me arms! Though," he considered, "You could fit in me arms now if I wanted, you're right skinny enough!" Hagrid laughed, booming from him. Hagrid motioned to him, urging to come closer.

Harry did so, though it did take some courage on his part. Hagrid produced a helmet from the bike, setting it of Harry's head. It was a bit big, but Hagrid set about tightening the straps. "Ther' yea are. Now you want to ride in the side car or on the bike?"

Harry looked around at the other side of the bike, and sure enough, a sidecar was connected to the side. Harry considered it quickly, choosing to go in the sidecar. "Side car is good with me," he decided. Harry marveled at the thought. He decided. He climbed in, surprised when Hagrid helped clip all the seatbelts in place. There were quite a lot. He looked up at Hagrid, who was now happily humming.

"Gotta make sure your properly secured," he said vaguely, when he saw Harry looking at him. Hagrid flipped down Harry's visor before climbing onto the bike himself. Harry felt the shifting of his weight. Hagrid pumped the gas, making the engine roar wildly.

Harry gripped the sides of the car as the started off. His visor made everything tinted a little dark, and he turned in his seat to see the last view of Privet drive as they drove away.

**OoOoOo**

"But the amazing thing was, when we got off my street, Hagrid started going to all these dark alleys and roads in the middle of nowhere," Harry explained in awe. "And then all of a sudden, we weren't on the ground anymore."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "What?"

"It started slow at first, I didn't notice it. But soon we were just skimming the ground, and then Hagrid pulled up and we were in the sky, above the clouds. It was really cold. My lips turned blue. It gave me such a fright at first, but I really enjoyed myself after I got over it," Harry continued.

"After a while we stopped and talked a bit about my mum and dad. Then he brought me here." Harry motioned to their surroundings.

"Wow, that's quite a story, Harry." Hermione sat up, pushing her hair out of the way.

"What about you?" Harry asked, nudging her with his foot. "How did you get here?"

"There is not much to tell really, Professor McGonagall, a teacher here, she is really nice, came to my house and told me and my parents I was a witch. They were upset, and they left me with McGonagall. Th… they were just upset, they didn't really mean the things they said. McGonagall brought me here. Since then I been here, I've walked the grounds once, they are really pretty. I blew up this," Hermione motioned to area around them.

"What, really? How did you manage that?" Harry asked, interested.

"I just was really upset, and it sorta exploded. Are you scared?" Hermione scrunched her nose worriedly.

Harry shook his head no. "I made a glass pane in the zoo disappear once. A bunch of snakes got out, I thought it was weird, but I think it was me, now. "

"Why were your parents upset?" Harry asked, punching his pillow in a better shape before laying his head down.

"Strange stuff happened all the time around me, they don't like it when that happens. I guess that made them even more upset when Professor McGonagall came and said it was all true. I was different." Evil, McGonagall proved you were evil, she thought to herself.

Harry pulled the blankets around himself tighter. "Well, they sound like reasonable people Hermione, I am sure your parents will calm down soon. I'm starting to feel sleepy, what about you?"

Hermione nodded, snuggling down into her blanket. Hermione felt relief at Harry's words. Maybe it wasn't as bad as it seemed, her parents would take her back. She just had to wait.

Within moments of each other, Hermione and Harry fell asleep, not feeling quite as alone.

**OoOoOo**

Morning came with the expected light. But what woke Hermione was the feeling of warmth draped across her legs. She shifted sleepily, moving her legs closer to the warmth. She heard an exasperated laugh, and her eyes shot open. She rose balancing her body on her elbows. She peered over the mass of blankets to see what the source of laughter was. Madame Pomfrey was sitting in her usual conjured chair, and Harry was up and eating as well. She realized it was Harry who had laughed; she had shifted her legs into Harry lap, and almost onto his tray! Hermione blushed in embarrassment, removing her feet carefully as to not upset his tray.

Harry flashed a smile, showing her he hadn't taken offence.

"Ah, Hermione, I am glad to see you awake, you didn't miss breakfast. I hope you are not too upset that I didn't wake you before the sun, but you seem tired. Eat up!" Madame Pomfrey handed her the tray, with a bowl of her favorite oatmeal.

Hermione mouth watered as it always did, and she started to eat. She felt a bit better after eating. She snuck glances at Harry, noticing that he had bacon and eggs. His mouth was full, and he seemed to eat in great amount. Hermione was pleased they had taken him from such a bad environment, starving a child seemed a wildly cruel thing to do. She wondered what had happened to Harry's parents that he ended up in such a spot, but somehow she doubted Harry knew any more than she did. Hermione was sad Harry had never experienced the love of parents, and was distressed of his cousin's treatment of him.

Madame Pomfrey rose, startling Hermione from her musings. "Alright, you two, I have something for you." She gathered the trays, whipping her wand to make them disappear. "I am going to let you roam the castle grounds, but there are conditions."

She pulled several objects out of her robes. She held up a necklace, a silver circle on a white linen cord. "This right here is a Danger Tracker. There are some dangerous places around the grounds. Hermione, any area McGonagall avoided on your walk, those are the areas I expect you to steer clear of, do you understand? But, in case you do get in trouble, put two fingers on the circle, and I or McGonagall will come to your aid. I do not need to stress that these are not toys do I?"

Hermione and Harry both shook their heads.

"Good, try them out, both of you, fingers here and here alright?" Pomfrey corrected their fingers. She showed her matching piece lighting up when she placed their fingers on their medallions. She gave one to each of them. "Don't be afraid to use them, we will come and get you."

Pomfrey held up a paper with colorful dots on them.

"These are stickers, I am going to put one on your skin, and they will heat up when it is time for you to come back inside. They won't burn you, but they will get steadily warmer the longer you stay out when you're called. Don't worry, you will start to notice them before you need to come inside. I ask that when they begin to warm, you bring yourselves inside quickly," she instructed firmly.

She tuned to Harry, "What color do you want, dear?" Harry chose a light green, and Hermione choose a blue sticker.

"What if we get them wet?" Hermione asked, thinking of the lake. Pomfrey turned to her in surprise, Hermione didn't ask things unless she was asked specifically.

"They are waterproof, and you can't take them off, I have the spell to remove them. Now, remember, you two, if you need anything, you can always come back here. And I am always here to talk. Just knock on my door."

"Thank you," Harry murmured, holding the medallion up, turning it over in his hands. Hermione looked at her own. She held it in her hands, measuring the weight of it. In a blink of an eye, where once was smooth silver, was a figure etched in the medallion. She gasped in surprise, hearing Harry mirror her. An immaculately carved otter floated on its back in shallow water, its belly being warmed by the small sun etched in the sky. Reeds poked through the water, and lily pads dotted the background, the flowers reaching up toward the sun. The otter held a small lily flower in its hand. It looked utterly peaceful and beautiful, Hermione wished herself to be the otter on the medallion, it looked exceptionally at peace.

Hermione turned her medallion so Harry could see, as Harry did the same thing for her. Harry's was just as beautiful, a fully formed stag stood proudly amidst pines and ferns. Hermione could see moss on the bark, small stones and fallen pine needles on the ground. The stag's chest puffed out defiantly, its antlers strong and straight. It felt like it possessed such unquestionable confidence and loyalty. In between the trees she could just make out tiny squirrels and rabbits, wildlife so realistic it was breathtaking.

"It's beautiful, Harry," she said in awe. Harry smiled, his eyes sparkling. "Yours as well Hermione, they are breathtaking. "

Hermione flipped her medallion, staring in confusion at the back. A bird that appeared on fire had its wings open, every detail etched perfectly, on the right a tabby cat was mid jump it's claws outstretched. On the left a weasel arched its back, all three looked especially fierce.

"Well, let's take a look," Madame Pomfrey broke the silence, taking each of their medallions in her hand. "Mmm, how beautiful. So much detail. An otter and stag. It fits." She let them fall against their chests.

"The animal on the front represents your animal self. These medals have a unique property of showing what you want most in the world, if you can interpret it, very interesting. On the back are the representations of those connected to your medallion if you get in trouble. Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall and I are on it. I am sure you can puzzle out who is who." She turned over her medallion, showing them an immaculate weasel frolicking in the snow. She flipped it over again, showing them a rearing stag and snarling otter.

"Off you go, now, try not to get into trouble." Madame Pomfrey waved her wand at the door, and it opened with a loud groan. "Make sure you wear shoes before you leave." Pomfrey left, leaving them alone with each other.

They looked at each other for a moment, and then bolted out of the bed, throwing on their shoes. They raced down the hall, Hermione taking the lead, knowing Harry hadn't a clue where they were going. But Hermione had her sights on a specific place. There was a tree near the lake that interested her. There were thick branches low enough for her to climb onto.

They raced across the lawn, laughing at each other's happy expressions. They made it to the lake easily. Hermione slowed, taking in deep breaths to slow her breathing. She could hear Harry doing the same. She looked at the tree, it was a strong looking tree, and Hermione walked to the base.

"What are you doing?" Harry called out breathlessly.

"I've never climbed a tree before, I stayed inside a lot." Hermione grabbed the lowest branch, jumping to get some momentum. She dragged herself up. Harry was waiting at the bottom; she offered her hand to him.

He took it without hesitation, jumping up and slinging his leg over. Hermione scooted as far back as she could, giving him room to settle. She rose to her feet, testing her balance. She felt small twitches in her back, but nothing that caused her to worry.

"How far up do you plan to go?" Harry asked, looking for the next branch.

"Far up as I can," Hermione answered. Hermione just knew she wanted a little height, to get way from the ground. Freedom seemed to intoxicate her with adrenaline, daring herself to do something out of the ordinary.

So she started to climb, limb after limb pushing and reaching, she paid no mind to the receding grass. Finally she stopped, and looked out into the sky. It was beautiful. She was up higher, higher than she had realized, and suddenly all her courage fled her. The ground was really far away, the lake a lot bigger than she realized.

She felt Harry sit next to her on a different branch, catching his breath. They were silent for a while, looking around the grounds with a bird's eye view, they could see a lot.

"You want to keep going to the top?" Harry asked, peering up at the branches above them. Hermione shook her head quickly.

"Ok, can I pick where we go next? I want to see what those things sticking out of the ground are." Harry explained. Hermione looked at Harry, who was sitting relaxed against the trunk.

Hermione nodded in agreement. "I could see myself with a book up here."

"Yeah, that sounds nice. I wonder if we could swim in that lake?" Harry thought aloud.

"We could, if you didn't mind the giant squid. But McGonagall said it stays in the deep water."

Harry looked at her in horror. "I think I'll hold off on that, then," he decided. He looked at the ground, "Ready to go?"

"I don't think I can get down." Hermione admitted. Her limbs seemed frozen in place. Harry turned to her, confusion is his face. "Are you hurt? I can get Madame Pomfrey!" he moved to get his medallion.

"No, no." Hermione said quickly. "I'm… I'm just scared." She swallowed, feeling stupid.

"Oh," Harry looked at her, understanding coming across his face. "Well, I'll just go down first, that way, if you start to fall, I can stop you. We aren't that far up, we will be on the ground in moments," Harry reassured.

Harry rolled off his tree limb, setting his feet firmly on the lower branch. "I have a lot of experience in trees, hiding from Dudley and all. He was so big; he'd snap the branches on most of the trees around my house. I won't let you fall, Hermione."

Hermione nodded, forcing herself to move one leg at a time. And so, Harry would go down one branch at a time, and wait for her to follow. It was slower than going up, but Hermione didn't mind. She did not want to fall.

Her feet landed on the ground a second after Harry's. She smiled shyly at him. "Thanks for that, I don't think I would have been able to get down on my own."

Harry just tipped his head solemnly. "Come on, I'll race you to the things in the air." He challenged her, pushing the thick framed glasses back in place. He didn't wait for her answer; he just shot across the lawn. Hermione wasted no time before chasing after him.

**OoOoOoOo**

Dumbledore showed up in the infirmary last, McGonagall and Pomfrey already having transfigured chairs and a table. They both were at the dubbed 'Hermione's sun window,' looking across the grounds. Dumbledore joined them, looking at the lawn. Two children raced across the grass, headed for the Quidditch goalposts. Hermione's hair trailed looked a flag through the wind, Harry's clothes flapping. The boy was frightfully skinny.

"It would appear that Miss Granger and Mr. Potter are enjoying themselves. Shall we start the meeting?" Dumbledore hated to pull the two women who had seen firsthand the pain of both from the happiness of the sight, but pressing matters were just that, pressing.

"She isn't that relaxed with me," McGonagall sighed, tuning toward the table and seating herself.

"She just needs time, Minerva, don't take as a slight upon you. Children need children their own age. When she comes and starts talking about her ordeal, you'll be wishing you had enjoyed these quiet moments." Pomfrey advised.

"I admit, when we found her on the floor my heart nearly stopped. Those things she said were disturbing, but pushing won't do any good until she says it on her own will." McGonagall mused.

"Quite right Minerva, just be there when she needs you." Dumbledore added. "How is Mr. Potter holding up?"

"He seems to be a happy boy, bitterness towards his adopted family of course, but nothing in extreme quantities. But with cases like these, we can't sure he just isn't just happy about leaving, and keeping something deeper hidden. Much like Miss Granger is experiencing right now. I still stand by my initial diagnosis that they both should really see a mind healer at Saint Mungos. Miss Granger will have another breakdown, as her confusion gets the better of her."

"She is a strong girl, but facing that abuse for so long will have lasting effects." Pomfrey summarized. "The same with Mr. Potter, perhaps on a smaller scale.

"That is a troubling diagnostic. Have you administering the calming potion steadily?" Dumbledore asked.

"Of course, a small dose each morning in their breakfast along with the Gaudium exlir. They are so small, anything larger would knock them out. It is extremely hard to get the dosage right. Too much happiness and all Miss Granger becomes a bit more talkative. Which is explains a lot, since she is so tight lipped. I'm afraid all the potion is doing for Miss Granger is keeping her head above water. Too little and you have the result of yesterday."

"And their medallions?" McGonagall asked, studying the one in her hand. The fierce little otter on the back reminded her explicitly of Hermione's essence.

Pomfrey waved her wands, and her notes appeared before her. She shared them with Dumbledore and McGonagall. "Otter and stag."

"Like his father? Very interesting. Good work, Poppy." Dumbledore already knew the shape of their animal form from the medallion already, but the other information Poppy provided gave him great insight to the way young Mr. Potter's and Miss Granger's minds worked.

"The court has approved of your temporary guardianship of Hermione Jean Granger, and all you have to do now is sign. A year from this date there will be another hearing, to decide if it will turn into permanent placement." Dumbledore slid the stack of papers toward McGonagall, still engrossed in Poppy's report.

McGonagall signed without a second thought. She had no doubts that she would at least be a better parent to Hermione than her parents ever were. She snorted. If she didn't talk to Hermione at all after signing this she would make a better parent than the Grangers.

She pushed the signed papers away from her. Dumbledore smiled and gathered them together. "Congratulations, Minerva, it is a girl."

"Oh, quiet you," she snapped jokingly.

Dumbledore simply chuckled. "Mr. and Mrs. Granger's trial can now be voted upon in a Wizard Council, now that the child of a witch has been harmed. The sentence will now be much stricter than before. Miss. Granger is legally Minerva's daughter, and such harm to a magical child demands a Wizard trial. Miss Granger's memory is not strictly needed for the case, but it would be a great influencing factor.

The Dursley's trial however, will have to wait until a later date. The law is shady there, as they are his legal guardians, and he was put there in trust by a wizard." Dumbledore frowned at that part, knowing in was his fault Harry had to go through so much.

"Now that Hermione is your daughter, what treatment would you like to go through? This is her file." Poppy handed her a thick folder.

"And these are all her certificates and documents." Albus pushed a thick file to her as well.

McGonagall barely scanned over the medical folder, having already read it herself. "I need to schedule an appointment immediately with Saint Mungos, I will schedule one for Harry as well. Keep giving them what you were administering before, until I can get recommendations from the specialty doctors," she told Poppy.

Poppy nodded approvingly.

"Now, does anyone have any new theories of Thoth's scroll? Severus suggested the scroll was tampered with. But by whom…" Albus trailed off.

"Thoth's scroll is extremely powerful, Albus, and all the names in red were in mortal danger. Perhaps the scroll decided to save them?" McGonagall repeated the exact same thing she said last time.

"Perhaps…" Albus contemplated. "Nevertheless, the information uncovered by you both has been invaluable. May I have the memory of the medallions, Poppy?"

"I knew you would ask," Poppy teased, taking a vial out of her apron.

McGonagall rolled her eyes, rising from the table. She gathered all the information on Hermione. "Excuse me, but I have several errands to run."

"I too, must go." Albus rose.

"I had better call the children in for lunch." Poppy finished.


	5. Chapter 5

They had climbed the stands and ran across the field. Harry seemed extremely interested. Hermione told him what she could, but she didn't have much information to give him. But Harry didn't seem to mind. They seemed very small to Hermione's mind, compared to the stands that could seat at least hundreds, if not a thousand. How many students came to Hogwarts?_ Hogwarts, A History_ was a bit outdated, so she couldn't be sure all the information was correct.

If they could fill these stands, it was certainly something to think about. All those kids in one place, it was a wonder pandemonium didn't break, Hermione turned to Harry, who was wandering close to her. Hermione had sat to wait, not really interested in looking around for so long.

Her eyes swept across the deserted field, it looked empty and lonely, waiting to be used and filled. Hermione felt twist inside her, and sadness washed over her for a moment, taking over her senses. She blinked back sudden tears, wrapping an arm around her waist. Her breath came in short bursts, what was happening?

And in all but a moment, it dwindled away, leaving her feeling drained. What was that about? Hermione glanced at Harry, who hadn't noticed the strangeness that came over her. She took a deep breath, pulling air through her lungs.

Nerves already on edge, she jumped in fright when Harry let out an excited yelp. She whisked around, her auburn hair whipping around her from the wind. "Harry! Are you all right?"

Harry swiveled to face her, holding something up in his hand. "I knew there had to be something here, look!" He came over to her, showing her his find. It was a small flag, and Harry offered his prize to her triumphantly.

Hermione took it in her hands, running the cloth through her fingers. It was dark green, with a snake over the word "Slytherin." It was not bigger than her hand. It was torn and weathered, and Hermione figured the stick to wave it had fallen.

"I wonder what that means." Harry pointed to the word.

"Slytherin is a House, there are four. You get sorted into one on the first day of school," Hermione told him, turning the flag over.

"Really? What the point of going into different houses?" Harry took the flag from her fingers gently, holding the weather beaten flag up to the sun. Sunlight poked through the threadbare cloth. It fluttered slightly in the breeze, silently suggesting its worth and pride.

"It is supposed to be about unity, having a sense of camaraderie. Competing against the other houses for points and such," Hermione told him, looking around the stands with greater interest. "I wonder what else we could find around here."

"We could keep looking, if you want," He lowered his arms, folding the flag and placing it in his pocket. "How do you know so much about this anyways?"

"McGonagall gave me a book about this place._ Hogwarts, A History._ I can give it to you if you want, I've already read it twice." Hermione tucked her hair away from her face, peering at Harry.

Harry nodded thoughtfully, "So what are the other houses? Which are the best?" They began to walk through the seats, separating to cover more ground. Hermione was now a bit more eager to look, not knowing what other treasures could be hiding in the bleachers. She answered Harry to pas the time.

"Well traditionally, they all started equally, from the founders of the school. But Salazar Slytherin prized subtlety and ambition, and believed those were the best traits. Rowena Ravenclaw valued intelligence over all else. Helga Hufflepuff believed loyalty and hard work was the best traits. Godric Gryffindor thought bravery and courage was best suited. So they each founded their own house, and every student to come into Hogwarts would be sorted into each house, based on what personality traits were most prevalent within them." Hermione bent, thinking she saw something.

"How would they know what each person went where, do they ask you a bunch of questions?" Harry called out to her, moving farther away in search of treasure.

Hermione rose in disappointment, it was only a piece of gum. "The founders created a bunch of things to help the school. A hat sorts you. It can see in your head and know where you belong."

"I don't want something in my head." Harry spat.

Hermione frowned; Harry was upset. His voice was low, and Hermione climbed several seats to get to his side.

When she reached his side, she wasn't sure what to do. "I don't think it is an evil thing Harry, they wouldn't let each generation keep using the hat if it wasn't safe." Hermione truly had no idea if the hat was dangerous or not, but it only seemed logical that a school wouldn't put their students in harms way. Not that she would tell Harry that. She hoped the school didn't make a liar out of her, she would have to ask McGonagall about it, when she could gather her courage.

Harry shook his head. "That isn't the point, Hermione. I don't want anyone seeing inside my head. It is the only place no one has been into but me." He looked from his hands and at Hermione. "My Aunt and Uncle my entire life has told what to do and when to do it. They controlled everything about me. But they couldn't tell me what to think in my head. They couldn't control what I thought. I don't want that to change." Harry let out a sigh, visibly letting his shoulders go slack.

Hermione hesitantly raised her hand and placed it on his shoulder. "I don't think anything in the world can change what you think but yourself, Harry, not even a magical hat."

Harry didn't answer. Hermione felt an itch on her forearm. She looked at her arm; it was the sticker. It was getting warmer.

She touched the sticker, feeling the slight warmth rising from it. Harry looked at his arm as well.

"Time to go in, then," Harry told her simply. Hermione could tell Harry was relieved to let the subject drop. Hermione got the sense Harry didn't like talking about his Aunt and Uncle. They began to make their way from the stadium in silence. There was a certain foreboding in having to go back. The stadium fell behind them, taking the feeling of freedom Hermione had experienced with each step.

Harry let Hermione take the lead again, following her through the lawn and into the castle. They passed through the empty halls and arrived in the Infirmary. Madame Pomfrey waited for them, their trays already on their stands.

Madame Pomfrey seemed to be a fan of vegetables, as they took up most of the plate. Hermione ate without complaint, though Harry seemed to have a harder time swallowing it than her. But that could be because he ate so little at his home, Hermione considered.

Madame Pomfrey left after they ate, collecting their plates and vanishing. Harry made his way over to her, his face scrunched in mockery.

"She really likes stuffing us like turkeys doesn't she? I feel better though, after eating that though," he allowed.

Hermione nodded in agreement. "I always feel better after eating breakfast and lunch. I wonder where she gets the food. Nothing in_ Hogwarts, A History_ said anything about a kitchen, though they talked about feasts a lot."

Harry shrugged, unconcerned. "Catering, maybe? But you're right, that is a little odd. So, do you want to go out again?"

Hermione was feeling very full, and doubted she could race around the school. She also wanted to analyze what happened earlier that morning. Her feelings just seemed to swamp her unexpectedly.

"You can go if you want, just stay away from the forest, the killer tree, and the deep end of the lake." Hermione told him.

"No, that's alright, I wouldn't want to roam around without you anyway. Help me move my bed closer to yours will you? Then you can tell me more about Hogwarts, right?"

Hermione hopped down in answer, walking over to his bed. They didn't have to move any blankets, so the only thing to move around was the potions on the stand and clothes in his drawer. One trip and they were done; Hermione took it upon herself to organize the medicine on the stand.

She read the labels out loud to herself. "Strengthening Potion, same as mine. Growth supplements, same, Mentis Medela… I have that one too, but I don't know what it means. Here is a different one, Vigorem Mentis. Wonder what that means." Hermione tapped the bottle with her fingernail.

"You don't have that one?" Harry moved to the stand to take a look. The bottle was big, and was filled halfway.

"No, just those three you have. Looks like a different language. My guess is Latin; it only makes sense that they base their medicine names after it. Doctors do it, too." Hermione guessed.

"I want to know what it is. I wonder why they are giving us all this stuff. I mean, I wouldn't mind being a little taller, but will this growth stuff really work? Does that mean we get actually stronger? Those are pretty important things to know, don't you think?" Harry was frowning again.

"I am sure if you ask Madame Pomfrey, she will tell you," Hermione soothed. Hermione understood why Harry was wary. She was concerned as well. She didn't dare ask, though. She knew how easy it would be to slip in another sleeping potion. She felt ashamed for being afraid of that, but she had her reasons. Sleep was no friend to her.

Harry had only been here for a day, and despite the fast friendship, Hermione didn't really know Harry. But she didn't want to see him upset or angry, and she didn't know why. Is this what friendship was?

Harry went to the middle of the room and sat on the floor, rather than his bed. Hermione followed him, sitting across from him so she could see his face.

"So tell me more about your parents, Hermione," Harry asked, leaning back on his elbows and peering at her over his glasses.

Hermione fidgeted nervously. She got very anxious when people asked her about her parents. Her mum and dad had told her what happened if she answered questions. But Harry wouldn't hurt her; he couldn't hurt her parents. So it was all right to tell him, wasn't it? It should be so easy, just to tell him what he asked.

"You don't have to tell me if you don' t want to, it's just I've never had parents." Hermione's face was blank, but Harry somehow knew what she was going through.

Hermione felt guilty, her parents had loved her but from the little Harry had told her, his Aunt and Uncle had been terrible to him. How could she keep good memories from someone who had none?

"My mum is really pretty, a bit shorter than my dad. My brown eyes are from her. My parents are both dentists, they work together. I get my hair from my dad, he loves to read like me."

Once she started, it was easier to keep going, keep talking. At the beginning, she was sure to talk of only the fun times, the good memories. But after a while, she didn't notice the slips here and there. If she was paying more attention she probably wouldn't have said much, but Harry just sat there quiet and encouraging. Later on she would think of the things she had said and cringe in embarrassment. She told things about her life she hadn't told a soul. What she believed and what she thought was unfair.

Harry just sat there and soaked it in, nodding and interjecting when he was needed. Hermione ran out of breath and words. She stared at her hands in embarrassment, wondering what had come over her. She felt the need to explain herself, to take blame for her actions. "I'm sorry to let that all out on you, I have never talked to anyone about any of that stuff." She whispered softly.

She felt a hand on her ankle. She looked up quickly; Harry smiled softly at her. It wasn't a happy smile, it showed his own pain and hurt. Hermione knew Harry understood what she meant. Harry probably didn't have anyone to talk to as well.

"I know Hermione, my Aunt and Uncle barely tolerated me. My cousin, he loved to torture me."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked curiously. She didn't understand what that had to do with her parents, but she wouldn't stop Harry from talking. Harry leaned back on the floor once more.

"Dudley would always get his friends and track me down. If I wasn't quick enough and he got his hands on me, I would be lucky to find my way home. They were always locking me in things. My cousin is a big kid, and I don't mean grown up." Harry scowled at the thought of his cousin. Brute strength was the one thing Harry could not acquire to protect himself. He was always underfed, always beaten. Harry had always felt the emotions coming with that realization. Anger that he was weak, disappointment that he couldn't be what he wished and disgust with himself for not being enough.

"What happened to your parents?" Hermione asked him. Harry didn't seem to be prepared for that question, but he answered it quickly enough.

"I was told by my Aunt and Uncle that they died in a car crash, and the world was better off without them." Harry's face was murderous. "I believed that, since they told me. Hagrid told me they were heroes, and the died to protect me." He turned his face away.

Hermione wanted to do something to comfort her friend, but she didn't know what. So she just copied what Harry had done to her, and laid a cautious hand on his calf. Hermione never comforted anyone in her life. And she didn't feel very sure of herself at all.

Hermione realized Harry was not the calm person he seemed so far. He was broken and hurt. Like her.

She stamped that thought down immediately. She wasn't hurt or broken, she told herself sternly. She was not hurt like Harry; her parents loved her. Harry had it worse than her. Her parents loved her; they loved her?

Hermione did not dare to draw similarities between Harry's guardians and her parents. That was wrong, her parents weren't like that. It was different, Hermione was wrong, in need of resetting. She was different that Harry.

Hermione felt a lurch within her heart. The same feeling as that morning washed over her, and she clenched her eyes shut to stop the tears from escaping. Sadness washed over her again, taking her senses from her. It was different than the attack of evil; she didn't feel its presence. It was just an overwhelming sense of emptiness, of nothing. It was black and dark; she could feel no hope, no future. It stayed for another moment, holding as tightly as it could before slipping away. She opened her eyes only when she felt the tears would hold.

Harry was still scowling at the ground; her hand was still on his calf. It seemed only a moment had passed. She removed her hand slowly. She seized her panic, pushing it deep down within her. She was not broken!

Harry looked up at the absence of her hand, easing his features into something less angry. "I guess we both needed to get stuff off our chests."

Hermione nodded absently. She simply wouldn't think about it. She would keep it all pushed within her, where it couldn't hurt anyone.

"I think we could explore again, what do you think, Harry?" She rose, offering her hand to him. He didn't hesitate, swinging himself up to her.

**OoOoOoOo**

The rest of the day passed quickly, as did the next day. They roamed the grounds, scoured the Quidditch field. They had a silent agreement between them to explore only the outside for now. Harry couldn't tolerate being cooped up for too long, and it made sense once he told her where he slept all his life. They had time after all.

But the next morning, an unexpected announcement broke their routine. They were eating breakfast same as usual when Dumbledore and McGonagall entered. Harry had only met Dumbledore in passing when he arrived. Hermione knew him a bit better, if only from listening to the conversation when he joined them for dinner. She had yet to try the box of jellybeans, having stuffed them in her drawer after the blast.

To see him in the morning was irregular, and Hermione did not like irregularities. They were hassles; her mind could not categorize them properly. Dumbledore wasted no time, his eyes twinkling.

"McGonagall has set up an appointment at Saint Mungos for you both. It is nothing to worry over however, it is a check over that we cannot do with the resources here. McGonagall with accompany young Miss Hermione and Pomfrey will accompany you, Harry. The more people to watch, the better, I always say." He turned to Madame Pomfrey.

"Madame Pomfrey, I know you won't forget to forward the reports they give. I am afraid I cannot accompany you, as I have business at the Ministry. But I wish you all the best of luck," He inclined his head towards them, his eyes sparkling as he contemplated the two of them. Dumbledore turned and exited the room, his robes trailing lazily behind him.

McGonagall sat on Harry's bed, since Harry occupied the empty space on Hermione's bed. "We will be leaving as soon as you have fed yourselves. Saint Mungos is a highly respected hospital; they won't do anything to harm you," McGonagall stressed, not wanting Hermione to panic.

"It will be much like a hospital where you lived; they will ask you questions and run tests. I am sure it won't hurt in the slightest, and Madame Pomfrey and I will be right there." She added, seeing Hermione tense at the mention of questions. McGonagall had noticed the aversion Hermione had to questions; she suspected her parents had instructed the young girl to stay silent. She could only shudder in horror at what they might have threatened to keep her quiet. It would be a long day, and McGonagall only hoped she would still have the trust of Hermione by the end of it.

What she had set up and Saint Mungos was painfully necessary, but it could be stressful. That's why McGonagall wanted it done and over with as soon as possible. Then Hermione could begin to settle and become comfortable in her own skin. McGonagall was very aware of the way Hermione held herself. Small and in the shadows, desperately trying to stay unnoticed. She stood the same way Mr. Potter did.

Hermione finished her oatmeal. It was good, but not as amazing as it was the other days. Was something missing? She stared down at the empty bowl, her mind nagging her. Perhaps not enough brown sugar and cinnamon this time?

She rose and put on her shoes, which Pomfrey had changed out for sneakers. What was with all the white anyway? She sneaked a glance at Harry. His clothes were matching to hers, and she imagined for a moment an eye patch and sword at his side. She smirked at the thought; at least she wouldn't be the only one going out like this.

Pomfrey disappeared for a moment before returning with a small clutch. They all followed McGonagall through the halls into an office. It was McGonagall's, Hermione decided, looking at the ancient bookshelves and paperwork on the dark wood desk. Hermione liked it in here, it smelled of ink and old books, and strangely, of cookies and tea.

McGonagall reached for a tin at the top of the mantle. Hermione couldn't believe how large her fireplace was, it could hold at least three people standing upright into it. Why would anyone need such a big fireplace? One glance at Harry and she could see he was thinking the same thing. Her mouth turned into a frown when McGonagall waved her wand at the large space, making a fire pop into place. Hermione could feel the heat wash over her.

McGonagall turned to them. "We are going to travel by Floo. That basically means fireplace to fireplace. You take a handful of this," She showed them the green powder in the tin, "You throw the powder into the fire and step into it. Then, you say the name you wish to go to, in this case Saint Mungos. Finally, you arrive and step out. You may feel a spinning sensation; that is completely normal."

Hermione gave a sidelong glance at Harry, who was glaring confusedly at McGonagall.

"I think a demonstration is in order. Allow me," Madame Pomfrey stated, stepping up and taking a good handful of the green dust. "I will be waiting for you on the other side," she informed them. She stepped up to the fire, and threw the powder into the fire, turning it green in a second. As she stepped in Hermione watched closely for any sign of burning.

They heard her shout "Saint Mungos!" before she was simply gone. The fire turned back to red and gold, flickering in and out.

McGonagall moved the can towards her. "You're next, Hermione."

Hermione spluttered in disbelief. McGonagall expected her to simply walk into something that she had known since she was young that it would burn her? She was just supposed to blindly hope nothing would go wrong. That was… that was illogical.

McGonagall watched the display of emotion wash over Hermione's face. She didn't think this would end up being the first test Hermione would have to face today. She had to do something, obviously. McGonagall knelt down, laying a hand reassuringly on her shoulder. "Hermione," she said, catching the young girl's attention.

Hermione's eyes widened seeing McGonagall before her. "I will not let anything bad happen to you. I won't. Madame Pomfrey is waiting for you on the other side. Everything is going to be all right. The fire will not burn you, I promise." McGonagall meant the words she said, Hermione could tell. And she promised, in Hermione's mind that meant McGonagall was risking the reliability of her word.

Hermione reluctantly nodded, taking the powder McGonagall offered her. Hermione stepped up to the fire hesitantly. She took a deep breath, taking a look back at McGonagall. She nodded encouragingly at her, urging her to go. Hermione turned back around, releasing the deep breath before throwing the green powder into the fire. The fire flashed green, and Hermione didn't give herself a moment to think of the uncertainty of it all. She stepped in, her world spinning like a top.

McGonagall sighed in relief. She was more than pleased that Hermione had decided to trust her. She felt decidedly warm and fuzzy inside at the thought Hermione had looked back at her for reassurance. She turned to Harry, offering him the tin with a smile.

Harry took a handful. McGonagall knew Harry would go through, if only not to be shown up by Hermione.

"Hermione is on the other side, nothing to worry about." McGonagall heard him mutter as stepped up the fireplace. Within a moment he was gone, and McGonagall wasted no time following.

**OoOoOoOo**

Hermione spun and spun, she felt incredibly out of control. She caught glimpse of people's living rooms and offices, so fast she couldn't recognize or remember them if she wanted to. Suddenly she was spat out, she skidded over the grounded for a foot or so before a waiting Madame Pomfrey plucked her of the ground.

"There you are, much faster than I thought." She twirled her wand around her head, and Hermione felt a cool wave wash down her. She watched as dirt simply vanished in sight of the magic. Her clothes were pristine and white again. Her hair must be a mess, she thought ruefully.

She couldn't give it more than a passing thought before Harry was spat out from the fireplace as well, and Madame Pomfrey scooped him up as well before he could skid far. Harry regained his feet, and Hermione nearly laughed at his appearance.

Harry was covered in soot, his clothes more black than white. His glasses were horribly askew, in danger of falling off completely. Madame Pomfrey did the same spell she cast on Hermione, the dirt fading away from his clothes. Hermione stepped forward and righted his glasses, planting them firmly on his nose once again.

Harry smiled weakly, looking a little green. Within a moment McGonagall exited the fireplace, simply stepping out. Hermione frowned, how did she just step out when they were vaulted across the room?

McGonagall saw her frown and explained with a small smile. "It takes years of practice; I was vaulted out fireplaces for a long time before I mastered it."

She checked them both for any injuries before turning to the door. Hermione took a look around the room, too busy with Harry to look before. The entire room was marble, decorated lavishly. Once wall was completely carved with what looked like bottles like Madame Pomfrey gave them, along with other instruments Hermione couldn't recognize. Other fireplaces stood against the row, five in all. Huge vases by each held the green powder. There was a huge tapestry with a man waving his wand. To Hermione's shock the man moved within the tapestry, waving and twirling his wand over a cauldron. She moved closer to McGonagall, nearly touching her clothes.

McGonagall noticed and explained. "Pictures always move in the Wizarding World, I expect you would find plenty at Hogwarts. They can't hurt you, except with their words when they are in a foul mood. Come along everyone."

McGonagall began to move out the room, and Hermione's hand seemed to shoot out on its own accord. McGonagall stiffened in shock for a moment, before taking Hermione's hand in her own. McGonagall's heart secretly soared at the show of uncertainty, if it meant Hermione looked to her for comfort. Maybe she could make a good mother after all.

They exited the room, entering a wide room with a reception desk taking up the middle. Hermione let herself be led, right to the counter. The room was widely colorful, with a jungle theme throughout the room. Brightly painted birds and creatures she had never seen graced the walls, and small tables were littered with puzzles and brainteasers. A low bookshelf wrapped around half the room, stuffed with colorful books. She could see stuffed animals and pillows placed neatly everywhere she looked. Cartons were filled with toys. Hermione never really had toys, and she was interested in what could be in the boxes. The room was really large, and Hermione guessed they were in the children's wing of some sort.

The receptionist perked up the moment she spotted them. "Sign in here," She chirped at McGonagall, handing over a clipboard. The woman turned to Hermione, smiling brightly. "You can play with whatever you want, both of you." She smiled to Harry as well.

Hermione let of McGonagall's hand reluctantly, knowing she would need both hands to fill out the clipboard. She turned for Harry, who was standing awkwardly behind her. He shrugged, letting the decision up to her.

Hermione headed for the books, seeing McGonagall and Pomfrey head for the chairs set against the wall. Harry followed her, and Hermione knelt down when she reached the shelf. She pulled out a book at random, gasping in shock at the cover. A diver waved at her, swimming to the edges of the book. Hermione stared at it in shock, as Harry peered over her shoulder.

"Let me see!" Harry gasped. Hermione handed over the book eagerly to Harry, picking another book from the shelf. A butterfly fluttered to a flower, landing and opening its wings periodically. Hermione scanned all the other books, they all seemed to move, even the titles on the side. She put the book down and picked another; simply watching the titles interact with her. She picked several other before coming across a book with a family on it. Two parents and a small girl stared back at her. They waved at her joyfully, acting as if they hadn't been read in a while. Hermione traced the title with her fingers.

**_A Family Picnic_**

Hermione had never been on a picnic. She wondered idly if it was fun. She opened the book, settling down on the floor. It was meant for her age group, but Hermione was far more advanced than a picture book. But she didn't mind, she gazed at the pictured with a great sense of envy. The characters seemed so happy to be read they acted each scene with happiness and excitement. They packed their lunch, apparated to a hill, ate lunch together and played games. Hermione watched the small family chase each other around in a game of tag wistfully. Her parents never played that game with her. She slowly closed the book, the family happily waving goodbye. She set the book back on the shelf, making her way back to McGonagall.

The clipboard was gone; Hermione assumed she returned it while she was reading. "Do you like the books?" McGonagall asked.

Hermione's constricted, feeling as if a pebble was lodged in her throat. Did she like the book? The book showing a perfect family enjoying a picnic? She just nodded. McGonagall wanted to frown; Hermione was obviously upset.

"Why don't you bring the book you were reading over? I haven't read a picture book in the longest while."

Hermione turned and retrieved the book, handing it to her. McGonagall peered down at the book. Her heart sank as she read the book. She could guess why Hermione was upset. Hermione's parents surely had never done any of the things with their daughter; this book just highlighted what Hermione had not experienced.

McGonagall gave a reassuring smile to the girl standing in front of her. "I bet it is odd to see the characters moving on the page, isn't it?"

Hermione nodded her assent. She glanced over to see where Harry was, she spotted him elbow deep in a carton of toys. She wandered over to him. Harry pulled out a toy dinosaur from the depths of the carton. Harry spotted her and lifted the toy sheepishly. "I had a tiny dinosaur toy once, before Dudley crushed it. " He looked at the toy. "I wonder what the button does?" Harry set the toy on the ground and pushed the button on the head.

The T-Rex seemed to come to life, leaping away from them and running across the carpet. It roared at them, stomping its legs angrily. Harry and Hermione simply stared at the toy in shock. It acted completely real! It charged and Hermione and Harry didn't waste a moment before diving in opposite directions away from the charging danger.

The dinosaur was no bigger than their knees, but its appearance was intimidating. It turned slowly, its mechanical red eyes locking on Hermione. Hermione opened her mouth to scream as the toy began its charge, but before she could, a hand reached down and plucked the toy from the ground, hitting the button on its head.

The toy turned stiff as it had originally. Hermione looked up at the person holding the toy. Before her was a clean-shaven, middle-aged man in a white lab coat. His hair had stands of grey, and he set the toy back into the bin. He straightened and smiled at Hermione and Harry, who had come up by her side.

"I am Healer Dilys Derwent. I am so pleased to meet you, we rarely get visitors in this wing. You can call me Healer or just Dilys. I don't mind at all. And those must be your guardians, I'll go meet them, shall I?" The man kindly introduced himself, stepping around them to introduce himself to McGonagall and Pomfrey.

"So good to see you Poppy, you are missed from the ward. You are always welcomed back, you know, if Hogwarts gets tiring. Mrs. McGonagall, nice to meet you finally. Are we ready to start? We can talk in my office while the nurses get started."

The Healer turned to them, taking a good look at Harry and Hermione. "I don't think we will have any problems getting along, I like you two already."

Hermione nearly smirked at the ludicrous thought. Why would it matter if he liked them? Shouldn't it be the other way around? But even that couldn't get her anxiety soothed. What were they going to do to them? To her?

"Shall we head in, then?" Healer Dilys suggested, leading them into another room. Hermione returned to McGonagall's side and breathed deep. She could do this, right?

**OoOoOoOo**

Author's Notes:

I would like to clear up some misconceptions. Yes, Dilys Derwent is a Canon character. She lived way back and worked at Saint Mungos, as far as I know. In my Fic, he is a man and is head of the Child Phycology Ward for Magical Calamities. He also is alive in the present. Some people questioned that, and that is my answer. I just wanted a character that was actually tied to the books.

The medallions, some of you guessed what they could be. I can't give the answer up yet. But Hermione's new bouts of sadness aren't coming from them. (Whatttt) Haha, you should look instead at the fact that Pomfrey is dosing them for what is called in Latin, Gaudium exlir. Basically meaning, Happiness. Pomfrey is giving her liquid happiness. It does not however, hold for long unless it is in the correct dosage. So the only reason Hermione isn't exploding with accidental magic caused by depression, is because of that potion. It is laced in her oatmeal. Chapter four, if you are interested!

Madame Pomfrey did give Albus her memories about the medallions. Some of you think that it is a breach of their privacy. I agree, and you might see repercussions and reasoning to that later down the road. Harry, you will find, takes his feelings seriously. Luna is coming soon. I am sure there will be many of you who are excited.

If you have any questions or want to whisper in my ear a suggestion, simply PM me. Or ask in the comments! Thank you for reading! Looking forward to your guys next reviews!


	6. Chapter 6

_**Author's Notes:**_

_**I apologize for the mistakes in the last chapter; hopefully they are fixed at this point. Thank you for reviewing and reading. Each review is appreciated, as is each reader.**_

**OoOoOoOoOo**

It was an extraordinary day for Luna. But then again, every day was an extraordinary day in her eyes. She spent the morning in the garden, searching for the elusive creatures she had read about in her coloring book. She was delighted at the present her father had brought from his work, and she enjoyed the challenge of coloring the moving figures on the parchment.

And it was a rather beautiful day outside; the sun shone brightly and was covered by clouds here and there. It kept it from becoming too hot, and the conditions were ideal to observe her surroundings in peace. It was early May, and it was finally warm enough to run around like she wanted.

Luna was lying on her belly in the garden, trying her best to be quiet and still. Her near white blonde hair covered some of her face, but she didn't bother brushing it back. She was on a mission. She was completely comfortable, her overalls protecting her from any bugs beneath her. Not that she was scared of bugs, but it seemed politer to have some courtesy after all. Maybe the bugs didn't want her skin touching them.

Luna knew she was a quiet girl; she had no illusions about herself. At the tender age of ten she knew where she stood in the world. Her world was bright and exhibited in fantastic colors, with creatures and things no one else acknowledged. She had tried sharing her observations with her fellow age group, but they didn't appreciate what she told them. It hadn't taken her long to realize they couldn't _see_. They didn't understand what was right in front of them.

Luna would never hold that against someone; she knew all types of people had to make up the world. But that never seemed to stop them from judging her. She had considered being angry at them for it, but that passed in all but a moment. How could she dislike them for what they thought; it would be like laughing at someone because they weren't wearing any clothes! You couldn't hate someone's nature, and so Luna never did.

But Luna never lied to herself when she admitted she was lonely. Her parents were her world, the only people in the world who seemed to understand what she knew. When she was old enough to read she got her hands on her father's magazine, _The Quibbler_. A world she knew existed lay between those pages, and in that moment she became her father's number one supporter.

Luna understood people's aversion to the truth. Their minds couldn't wrap around what their eyes saw, so they blocked it all out. Her parents thought that was wrong, and did everything in their power to teach Luna the better way. Her parents knew that ignoring the truth left you unable to see.

Luna loved her father very much, but it was her mother that was her obsession. She never really liked potions that her mother seemed so fond of, but Luna loved watching her mum work. Her mother saw solutions to ailments that no one else could think of. Her mum's workroom smelled like flowers and herbs, a scent Luna could never get enough of.

Luna spent hours each day sitting quietly in a corner watching her create things or work on formulas. Her mother's hands always kept her fascinated for hours. She waved her hands over her cauldron or chopped ingredients with grace and skill. No matter what her mother did she did it with expression. She didn't use her voice often, none of their family did. They usually knew what the other wanted to say or do.

Luna loved her mother deeply, as only a young child could. It was why, after finding nothing immediately interesting in the garden, she opted to head inside. Luna rose from her stomach, not bothering to wipe off the dirt from her clothes. Surely it would make her more attractive to the elusive Moon Frogs.

She had been waiting patiently all morning to catch a glimpse of a Moon Frog, but she was more interested in seeing what her mother was up to. She made her way from the garden, passing the wayward plants and vines. She closed the gate behind her, and skipped upon the winding path to the house.

Her father had already left for work, kissing her on the forehead as he left. He wouldn't be back until sometime after three, it varied day to day. Luna never had to guess when he was about to arrive, she could _feel _it. The magic within her hummed at his arrival, giving her enough time to pinpoint his location.

Luna pulled open the door and bounded through the kitchen. Luna loved the house, she loved everything about it. Her parents had allowed her to decorate it herself. So of course, it reflected how she saw the world. Her parents proudly claimed it was all her beautiful decorating insight when anyone came over. Luna basked happily in this praise while their guests stared at her parents in disbelief. They were proud of their little nine-year-old.

She climbed the stairs quietly, stopping at the purple painted door. The house had to the outsider the oddest proportions. But to Luna it was simply home. Luna raised a small hand and edged the door open a crack. She peered inside, brushing her thin blonde hair away from her eyes. She saw her mum humming happily over a thick book. Luna smiled; she could feel her mother's happiness.

Luna could always understand others feelings. Her favorite feeling was happiness. She could sit under it and let it wash over her like the warmth of the sun. And watching her mother experience Luna's favorite emotion was icing on the cake.

Luna spent several minutes just watching her mother flitter about the room, gathering ingredients from shelves. She pushed the door open further, drawing her mother's attention.

"Luna darling, find any creatures any the garden?" Her mother smiled at her, a small sun in the room. Luna's father always told her she seemed so similar to her mother. They had the same hair and eyes, the same features. If eyes were gateways to the soul, one would only find joy in the depths of the silvery blue orbs belonging to them both. But Luna knew her father meant they had same caring and strength. It was a Lovegood trait that made her father very proud to see in his daughter.

Luna shook her head in denial, not minding at all. Her mother came towards her, pulling her gently in the room. Luna was engulfed into a hug, love washing over her gently.

"I just know one day you will find exactly what you're looking for. Lovegood's always find their place in the world, and you're a Lovegood always, Luna. Don't let a minor setback discourage you." Her mother lifted her and twirled her around for a moment, laughing.

Luna felt like she could burst. She looked up at her mother when she set her down. "I love you." She said dreamily.

Her mother grinned wider. She bopped Luna on the nose. "I love you too." Her mother looked around exasperatedly until she located the clock. _**Time for Lunch,**_ their hands pointed.

"Well come along _my little moon_, the clock never lies. My wand waving can wait." She laughed, leading her young daughter down the steps.

**OoOoOo**

Luna sat on her stool in her usual corner, watching her mother brew. Luna's mum had placed protection charms around the corner. Luna had understood over the years how dangerous potions and spells could be together. There had been mistakes and miscalculations. Nothing serious, her mother was very careful.

Her mother chatted while she mixed things together. She always spoke to Luna when she was there; she said it helped her think things through. It didn't matter Luna never really said a word; they were there for each other's company after all.

"Dragon spleen sliced thinly, that should work. It should help neutralize the dried vampire bat ears. Try to remember the importance of potency after all, Luna dear. No one ever likes an imploded cauldron. Toxicity can destroy a cauldron faster than a first-years attempt at Felix Felicis!"

Luna smiled her assent when her mother glanced at her.

"Werewolves were always such suffering bunches. Just like your father always says, if someone hates what they are, they can never find peace. Perhaps now Severus will talk to me without that sneer he is fond of. For a fellow brewer you would think he would pleased with the advancement of the art." Her mother measured out several pounds of crushed brittle leaves into the cauldron.

"The problem with this potion is its complete aversion to silver, which is to be expected when you think about it. Werewolves are allergic to silver after all." She spouted unexpectedly before going back to her original conversation.

"I never hide from the truth, you know that Luna. And the truth is Mr. Snape does not like to be shown up. Perhaps I should owl him so he can be involved? Who am I to take the credit after all, this will be a discovery of immense proportions."

Luna logged every potion ingredient her mother used in her head to mull over later. Luna didn't know how her mother could come up with combinations that ended up so extraordinary. She could only understand it all after thinking about it for a while.

Her mother had been excited for months about the new potion she was trying to create. Luna knew it had something to do with werewolves, and over the weeks she listened to her mother talk about ending their suffering. Luna had never met a werewolf, but she imagined they would be very nice. Most people were, so why would a werewolf be any different?

"I don't think badly of him, heavens no! I think he is simply worried about the complications and dangers of spell work and potion making. It is quite flattering after all, that he is concerned. But what is the danger of one person to the advancement of many? Professor Snape does not like to take unnecessary risks, which is rather humorous, don't you think _little moon_?"

Luna nodded vigorously; she knew exactly what her mother was talking about. The truth could not hide from the Lovegood women. They could both plainly see the black magic radiating from his forearm. For a man who didn't like risks he sure made quite a few. The magic wasn't active, it simply pulsed in a dull assurance.

Luna had met Severus Snape many times, when her mother went to announce a new discovery to the Guild. The Potions Guild seemed wary of the tall dark man that was Severus Snape. No one could deny he had talent, but something dark always seemed to swirl around the Potion's Master.

The day passed peacefull; Luna never left her mother's workroom, enjoying the increasing complexities her mother worked with. Luna felt a whisper of magic swirl through her, and she knew her father was going to appear soon. She hopped down from her stool, skipping out of the room.

She heard her mother's delighted laugh following behind her. Luna opened the front door the moment her father appeared before her with a resounding crack. Her father beamed at the sight of his daughter. Luna stepped aside and her father strode in and dropped his satchel in the basket near the door. Xenophilius procured a wrapped package with a snap of his fingers, handing it to Luna dramatically with a twist of his fingers and a bow.

Luna gracefully took the package and twirled away just as dramatically, their faces set in solemn attention. Neither could hold that face for long, and Luna giggled delightedly at her father, who was trying desperately to keep a straight face.

Xenophilius broke down and filled the kitchen with his delighted laughter. His wife descended the steps, looking at him with joyous eyes. He smiled sheepishly, knowing the Lovegood women could easily feel his happiness.

Xenophilius didn't have to ask if her work was going well. He knew how brilliant his wife was. He only needed to ask how successful this one would be this time. Just as how she needed never ask how his day went. They both loved their jobs; they filled them with purpose and delight.

Xenophilius didn't know what he did in his life that gave him such treasures. After getting married to the love of his life, they worked separately on their careers. But after a while they both felt something missing. When his wife discovered she was pregnant; they couldn't contain their excitement.

Luna was born and Xenophilius had never known such a perfect being in all his life. Luna was the icing to their lives. She took after her mother, but Xenophilius could see himself in her. He and Selene raised her with open minds and hearts, and Luna grew before their eyes perfectly.

Xenophilius could not deny the truth; he loved the idea of his daughter enjoying his magazine. That is why he assured she got the first copy since she could read. He was surprised at the devoted belief of Luna. That belief spawned their yearly trips over the world to find the creatures in the magazines.

It was strictly a father/daughter outing, as Luna spent most of her time with her mother. Xenophilius hoped that his passion for magical creatures would rub off on his daughter, and he received his wish. The Quibbler wasn't specifically a creature based publication, but it had its fair share of articles.

Luna untied the stings and pulled off the paper covering the magazine. She looked over the title carefully, looking for mention of… there! On the corner the words advertised the column on Moon Frogs!

"Like I promised! An in-depth findings of the elusive Moon Frogs!" Xeno exclaimed excitedly. "I knew you would be quite ecstatic to know more about them."

Luna was decidedly happy. She hugged her father gratefully, skipping out to the garden to read before the light faded.

Xenophilius watched her go, a fond smile on his face.

"I wouldn't smile so much if I were you, she wants to braid your hair before you go to work tomorrow. She designed a pattern to bring you good luck." Selene told him, descending the stairs to come to his side. They both watched through the window as Luna settled in the garden, pouring over the pages.

"Really? I can't wait to see what she has planned." Xenophilius brightened.

Selene shook her head and tugged on his hair teasingly. "Sometimes I think you only grow it long to let Luna come up with new things to do."

Xeno smirked. "I believe it was you who liked it long, dearheart. Besides, her impression of Ravenclaw's diadem was very realistic. I rather liked those blue flowers she found, the boys at work said they complimented my eyes. And you know very well that magical creatures will always be partial to long hair."

His wife fluttered her eyelashes and kissed him lightly. "Help me with dinner?"

Xenophilius waved his wand, music floated through the kitchen. "You can tell me about your new potion while we cook."

**OoOoOoOo**

Luna woke in her room with a start. She looked around the room, her ears straining for what woke her. Her stomach felt coiled, twisting and turning within her. She got up, untangling the handmade quilts from her legs. Her bare feet touched the ground, her nightdress righting itself as she stood.

The sun was just peeking through her window. Her dad would be up by now. Luna padded down the stairs, seeing the kitchen light on. Her father spotted her immediately, breaking out into a smile.

"Luna! Up early I see. Did you get the urge to roam the garden? The full moon is tonight after all. Such intuitions will get you far in the world. The Moon Frogs are known to be particularity active the day of the full moon." Xeno bustled through the kitchen, pouring himself and his daughter a glass of pumpkin juice. He was already dressed in bright orange robes, his satchel ready to go. His long white hair was tied back loosely, showing off his newly braided locks.

Luna took the glass and sat at the table with her father. Her stomach was wound tighter than before, and Luna didn't know why.

"Dad, I don't feel too good." Luna put a hand on her stomach as a feeling of foreboding rushed through her. Luna had never felt this way before, but she felt the unexplainable urge to keep her father home. The feeling came to her sharp and clear, rather than her usual thoughts.

"What? Where does it hurt?" Xeno worried, concerned for his daughter.

"It doesn't hurt, I just have this feeling." Luna exclaimed wondrously.

"What feeling Luna? Wizarding flu has been sweeping the country on the backs of Caperhorns. Witches and wizards will pay the price of the Minister's plot to overthrow the goblins. Caperhorns are dangerous creatures!" Xeno rose and went to wake Selene, knowing she had more experience in the medical field than he.

Luna sat waiting at the kitchen table, exploring this new feeling within her. She wistfully wondered where it had been hiding all this time. She had never felt it, so she didn't know what to call it. It wasn't sadness, or disappointment. She felt almost… scared. But worse than that, she wasn't scared for herself.

Selene entered the kitchen, kneeling down beside Luna. Her mother took Luna's hands into her own; looking Luna in the eyes. Luna stared into the silvery blue eyes of her mother. Luna felt as though she was sinking. Not drowning, just falling slowly into the depths of something unknown. Her mother's eyes widened after a moment. She rose to her feet and smoothed Luna's hair back; offering a small smile.

"Luna is all right, she isn't sick. You are just experiencing some strong feelings. Can you remember anything before you woke up?" her mother asked her gently.

Luna shook her head. She looked to her father, who was looking at her with some relief. "Don't go to work today please." She asked quietly.

Her mother and father shared a look. Her father knelt sat down in his chair and leaned over to her.

"I do have to go to work today, but…" he added, seeing her crestfallen face. "I will come home for lunch today. How is that?"

Luna thought for moment, the feelings inside her did feel a bit better at that. She nodded solemnly. Xeno nodded, reaching into his pocket. He took out his wand and a silver sickle. He tapped the coin several times and twirled his wand. The coin turned bright purple for a moment before going back to its original silver.

"There!" Xeno exclaimed, handing the coin to her. "If you need me then just press this and call for me!"

Luna felt much better as she took the coin. She smiled at her father, hopping away from the chair and giving him a hug.

"There there, my Luna. Now I must be off. I will see you both for lunch. I will bring something from the Leaky Cauldron." Xeno hugged her and kissed her mother before disappearing with a crack.

"Well, since we are both up we might as well start the day!" Her mother sang happily as she moved around the kitchen, gathering the ingredients for pancakes. It was Luna's favorite muggle treat. Soon they were busy within the kitchen and Luna forgot all about her previous feelings.

**OoOoOo**

Luna settled back into her corner, her father's latest edition in her lap. She read over the Moon Frog article again before going through all the rest. Her mother had begun gathering her ingredients to begin mixing. She was already muttering instructions to herself, and Luna listened with half an ear in case her opinion was needed.

An hour passed without incident before Luna felt something stirring in her. The feelings were coming back! She glanced up from the magazine to look at her mother, who was working intently. Luna knew she shouldn't break her mother's attention right now.

Luna sat quietly hoping to gain her mother's attention when she looked over at her. The feeling of dread and fear grew more intense the longer she sat there. Luna studied her mother intently. She was doing what she always did. Measuring and mixing. She could see the pale grey contents within the cauldron swirling mysteriously.

Her mother added another cup of brittle leaves. She was using wooden spoons and measuring cups. Why was that? Luna thought hard for the reason. She searched the room for the answer before studying her mother again. The feeling within her was becoming unbearable.

Her mother leaned over the cauldron, stirring the liquid slowly. Luna zeroed in on her mother's neck. A necklace was dangling from it. It had little animal charms dangling from it. The charms swayed lightly whenever her mother moved. Luna frowned, setting her magazine aside. Her mother wore that necklace every day, why was she worried about it?

"_**The problem with this potion is its complete aversion to silver, which is to be expected when you think about it. Werewolves are allergic to silver after all."**_

Her mother had told her that yesterday. But what did that have to do with anything? Luna tried to think, but all she could think about were werewolves and silver. Werewolves are allergic to silver… her mind swirled.

What was she thinking about before? The feeling, and the necklace. _**The necklace**_! The necklace was silver! Luna jumped up, catching her mother's attention. Selene looked at her daughter curiously.

"Mom, your necklace! It's silver!" Luna gestured to her neck urgently, her fear clogging her throat.

Selene's hand reached up to her throat, grabbing her necklace. Luna was right, she had forgotten about the silver-plated necklace. What had she been thinking!? She wore it so often she forgot it was even there! Selene felt something slip through her hand. She looked down in horror as a small charm came loose and tumbled from her fingers. Selene fumbled in a panic and tried to capture the errant charm.

Luna watched in horror, her fear crashing over her as she watched her mother try to catch the falling charm. Luna watched it all in slow motion, the charm falling down, down, down into the swirling liquid. Her horrified mother's mouth made an "O" as the realization of what was to come hit her. Selene looked up at her daughter, her little nine-year-old daughter protected by wards. Silver-blue met silver-blue and Selene knew it was the end.

"MOMMY!" Luna screamed, rushing forward just as the silver made contact with the potion. Luna was thrown back as green light flashed through her eyes. She tried to stand, her body twisting towards where she knew her mother was, her hand reaching out. Luna's world as she knew it exploded outward from the cauldron, blasting her away.

Luna's inner ears exploded and her eyes were blinded, and she was tossed airborne from the blast. All Luna knew was pain, every second an eternity. She landed heavily, the wind knocked out of her as she met the ground. Pain lanced through her body, through her legs and her back.

Luna fought for breath, trying to pull air through her lungs. She nearly lost the battle, but oxygen made its way to her. It was hard to breathe; it required her conscious effort. In, out. She stayed like that for a while, breathing.

She blinked, still seeing nothing but green light. She didn't know where she was. Luna dragged in another breath. "Mommy… Please."

"Mommy…" Luna cried out for her mother.

Luna couldn't hear anything but a high pitch whine.

Luna needed her mom, she needed her desperately. Was she all right? Was she lying hurt and needing help like Luna did? Luna tried to move, to stand, anything. She couldn't.

What was she going to do? All Luna could think about was the pain and her mother. The coin! The coin will get her dad. It was in her pocket. Luna focused on that, she attempted to move her hands, but only one of them responded.

Inch by inch Luna pushed her hand, crying out because everything hurt, everything _burned_. After what seemed a century Luna felt the fabric of her pocket. Her body was shivering, and that made it hard to get a good grip on anything. Luna wanted to stop, she wanted to sleep. Luna could see the darkness now, the green light faded, leaving Luna in the dark. Luna stretched and strained, and she felt the cool metal between her fingers. Crying out in relief, she pressed the coin in her palm.

"Daddy…" she sobbed. "Dad. Dad!" She called out again and again, losing her strength. Despite how she fought, the darkness pulled her down. "Daddy…" Her head went slack, her body sagging as the sickle rolled from her hand onto the ground.

**OoOoOoOo One Year Later OoOoOoOo**

Luna looked up from her breakfast, seeing a rather large owl tapping on the window. Luna rose and lifted the window, allowing the owl inside. How odd, she thought.

"Hello little bird, are you lonely?" Luna tilted her head, contemplating the large brown owl dreamily.

The owl hooted softly and stuck out its leg. Luna untied the letter from its leg, stroking the owl's head as she read the address.

To her surprise, the letter was addressed to her. Luna procured a treat from within one of her many pockets and offered it to the bird. The owl took it gently, clapping its beak in thanks. It flew to the window sill and waited.

Luna ran her hands over the front, considering the words.

_**Luna Lovegood**_

_**The Rookery**_

_**Ottery St. Catchpole**_

Luna didn't know anyone who would write her. It was such an exciting occasion; she almost didn't want to open it! She thought she should save it for when she really needed a letter. Luna nodded in agreement with herself, about to tuck the letter in her overall pocket. But she realized the owl expected a reply, and she couldn't give a reply unless she read it.

She opened the letter carefully, as to not rip the outside. She began to read the letter.

_**Dear Miss Luna Lovegood,**_

_**We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. **_

_**Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July. **_

_**Yours sincerely,**_

_**Minerva McGonagall**_

_**Deputy Headmistress**_

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**_

Luna looked over the equipment list and supplies in utter bemusement. "Did they make a mistake perhaps?" Luna asked the owl. "I won't be eleven until next year. Though it is nice that they haven't forgotten me, I suppose." The owl hooted in response.

"Well I am sure you would know," Luna conceded lifting the pages until she came across a hand written letter.

_**Dear Mr. Xenophilius Lovegood and Miss Luna Lovegood,**_

_**Due to unseen events, Luna Lovegood has been accepted into Hogwarts a year earlier than expected. There is no reason to be alarmed. We can discuss these events at your earliest convenience to answer any questions or concerns you have. Please send your reply with the owl provided. **_

_**Albus Dumbledore **_

Luna went to her room to find some parchment. She gathered the supplies and went back down to the kitchen. She began to think of a response, and she doodled as she thought. She supposed dinner would be the best time to talk. She penned a response and folded it into an envelope.

She tied it to the owl, who was offering his foot. She gave the owl one last stroke before letting it leave. Luna tuned back to the table to write another note, to her father. She looked around for her father's owl, Kentish.

She found Kentish in her father's room sleeping. Luna sang softly as she pet his beak to wake him up. Kentish blinked blearily, hooting softly.

"I would like you to deliver a letter, if that's alright with you? It's to Dad." The owl shook himself and offered his leg to her. Luna tied the note onto his leg, watching as he leapt off the stand and out the room.

**OoOoOoOo**

Luna had made a simple meal. She knew her father could have done better, but he wouldn't be back in time to cook anything. Her father loved SnapplePuff soup, and she figured Dumbledore would like it too. She swayed and swirled around the kitchen, her hair waving around her.

She set the table and cleaned the house, singing along to the music in her head. She felt the wisp of magic that let her know her father was about to come home. She flew to the door and opened it just as he apparated.

Xeno smiled, though it was strained. He walked in after giving Luna a hug and noticed the house was spotless. "So who exactly is coming for dinner Luna? Ah SnapplePuff soup, they must be important." Xeno hovered over the aromatic scent.

Luna scrunched her nose, taking her father's satchel and putting it into the basket. She placed her letter in his hand and went back to tidying.

Xeno sat down to read it, and was quite shocked by to contents. "Albus Dumbledore is coming here? We must hide the entire cocoa supply, he takes it to use in his chocolate frogs!" Xeno shot to his room.

Luna dragged a chair over to the sink at her father's words. She stood on it to reach the cabinet. She took out the jar of cocoa and hopped down from the chair. She hid the jar in the basket near the door. Dumbledore would never look there!

Luna heard a crack then a polite knock at the door. Her father rushed down to open the door, leaving Luna to ladle the soup.

She heard her father invite Dumbledore inside, they entered the house, exchanging pleasantries. Luna set the bowls and spoons at the table just as they walked into the kitchen.

"Your house is remarkable, what is that smell? It smells delightful!" Dumbledore inhaled the scent. They all sat at the table. Dumbledore to Luna was very much like her father when it came to fashion. Though Dumbledore, she noted, chose cooler darker colors. His robes were blue with white stars scattered over it.

Luna dug in, listening to the conversation between them.

"Why a year early? Is Luna gifted?" Xeno asked. He shared a humorous look with his daughter. "More gifted than she is?"

Albus blew on the hot soup before tasting it. It was quite good. He must get the recipe. He looked up at Xenophilius's question. He had already discussed with the board how he was going to handle this.

"We can only assume that is the case. I am sure you are familiar with Thoth's Scroll?" Dumbledore asked.

Xeno nodded vigorously. "A scheme dreamt up by the founders to keep track of anyone magical, allowing the Minister of Magic to control their powers!"

Albus nearly choked on the delicious soup when he heard that. "Mr. Lovegood, I can assure you the Minister cannot use the Scroll for his own benefit. Its sole purpose is to help send out letters to the magical population. Each year it gives that year's names. Your daughter showed up for this year's lot of students."

Albus omitted the red ink and late tally, telling them only select facts. "Are there any concerns you have about your daughter attending school a year early?"

Xeno though silently. Did he have a problem? A part of him didn't want his little moon growing so quickly, but Luna was stuck in the house when he was at work all alone. That was no way for a child to live. They had made do this year, but he hated to see his little girl so withdrawn and quiet. Perhaps Hogwarts would be a blessing in disguise.

Friends, Xeno knew, could help his daughter through her rough time, as it was obvious Xenophilius couldn't help her when he was still dealing with his own grief. So he really didn't have a problem. He would miss Luna when she was at school. The days were long as it was.

"I have a couple conditions." Xeno stated. Dumbledore waved his assent to continue on.

"If she wants to floo on the weekends she will be allowed to. And if she needs tutoring then you will allow me to provide it." He looked to Dumbledore.

"Those seem like perfectly reasonable requests. Professor McGonagall has a fireplace connected to the Floo in her office. She could use that every weekend, provided she is present by curfew Sunday night. We allow all parents to provide private tutelage in the student's downtime if that is what they wish." Albus told him.

"Yes, one last thing. Luna has to take a potion once a week for her back. Can she do that at Hogwarts?" Xeno checked.

Dumbledore's eyes widened in curiosity. "I take it she needs it because of the..?"

Xeno nodded in silent agreement, glancing at Luna.

"That should be no problem, owl me the details and I will make sure Madame Pomfrey has it in stock for Luna to take once the school year starts." Dumbledore summed up. They had finished up the supper as they talked, leaving empty bowls before them.

"I must inquire about the recipe, what manner of ingredients were used in this meal?" Dumbledore praised the meal.

Luna gave him a small smile, answering. "SnapplePuff soup is made of SnapplePuffs. We grow them in the garden. They are a type of man-eating mushroom, they are always polite though."

"Ah, I see. Well you must send me the recipe, I am sure the Hogwarts staff would enjoy trying it. Thank you both for your time. I will see you September 1st Miss Lovegood. Good afternoon." Albus rose and headed to the door, having done what he came there to do.

Xeno escorted him, shaking Dumbledore hand as he passed to the outside. "Might you be interested in an interview for the Quibbler?" Xeno asked optimistically.

**OoOoOoO**

**Author's notes:**

**Leave a review if you enjoyed Luna appearance!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Notes: Thank you for all those who took the time to read and review! I enjoy reading every single one. To the guest who did not leave a name, I understand where you are coming from. After reading so many Fanfictions, it is easy for something like dislike to turn to hate for a character. As it is just as odd to take something like dislike and turn it around to it becoming your favorite characters. Characters like Ron and Snape all depend on perception. What an author can make you **_**feel**_**. And, I am overjoyed you loved my Luna. So, thank you for reviewing **_**Guest**_**.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter World or its characters. **

After leaving the colorful waiting room behind, Hermione followed the Healer through a set of doors set to the right of the reception desk. The Healer directed them into different rooms. Harry went with Madame Pomfrey, leaving though yet another door. Hermione watched him go with trepidation. Harry looked back at her; his shoulders slouched as if to protect himself for whatever was to come next. Hermione sent what she hoped was an encouraging smile, though she suspected it came out as a grimace.

Hermione stayed close to McGonagall, and they were led into a room by a nurse. It held an examining bed, one that Hermione had seen in regular hospitals. The rest of the room was covered with cabinet and counter space.

Hermione squirmed onto the bed, rustling the thin white paper spread on the bed. She wrinkled her nose at the regularness of it all. She was a bit underwhelmed with the normalcy of it all. After that toy dinosaur she expected something a bit more, well, _shocking_.

Hermione's legs swayed over the bed as they waited in silence. McGonagall had seated herself in an empty chair beside the bed. The room had that sterilized smell like a hospital. It made her uncomfortable.

A nurse opened the door, breaking the silence. Hermione thought it was a nurse, what did they call nurses in this world anyway? Healers were doctors, so that made nurses what?

"Hello," The nurse glanced at the clipboard in her hand, "Hermione. I'm going to ask you to remove your clothes so we can take a general health check. Are you wearing underwear and a bra?"

Hermione blushed, wrapping her shirt in her hand.

"Just underwear I'm afraid." McGonagall answered for her. Hermione blushed a brighter red. She had owned a single training bra before it had disappeared with the rest of her clothes. Was she going to be forced to stand in her underwear while someone looked at her? This was going to be incredibly embarrassing! She didn't even want to consider the thought of what she wore being a topic of conversation.

"That's just fine. I'll see if I can transfigure something. I'll be right back." The peppy nurse disappeared, closing the door, the silence entering the room once again. Hermione's eye twitched.

McGonagall smiled encouragingly at her. Hermione gave a strained smiled back, already wanting to go back to Hogwarts. She didn't really care about her health, she trusted Madame Pomfrey. She didn't see the necessity of it. Obviously Harry needed it, he was seriously underfed. But she was perfectly fine after all.

The nurse returned, handing her a plain white bra. The nurse turned her back so she could change. Hermione slid off the bed and completed the task as fast as it was humanly possible. If she was in the laughing mood she would have pointed out how she had a complete outfit in white now. She didn't bother putting the shirt back on, seeing as she had to unrobe anyway. She tugged off her pants, nearly falling over with her bad balance. She kicked off her shoes. She folded the clothes and handed them to McGonagall, who had her hand extended for them.

She glanced at the nurse who had turned back around. The nurse was looking at her oddly; did she have something on her face? Was she not supposed to undress yet?

"Back up on the bed please Hermione." The nurse told her, going back into professional mode. Hermione preferred that to the staring. She struggled back onto the bed, knowing she looked utterly ridiculous. The nurse took a wand from her apron and stepped towards her.

"Alright Hermione, I'm just going to do a couple spells, they won't hurt or anything, I promise. You might feel a tickle here and there." The nurse waited for her to give a jerky nod before waving her wand around her body.

Hermione noted that the woman seemed very confident with the sandy colored piece of wood. She noticed movement beside her, and she shifted to take a look. The nurse had set out large pieces of paper on the counters while she was changing, and she watched in fascination as ink bled onto the page, taking shape in what she recognized as X-rays and pictures of her internal organs. She turned her head to the nurse and back to the paper, trying to figure out the mechanics of it all.

The nurse finished with a twirl of her wand, giving a warm smile to Hermione. "You did great, now I will do a physical examination. If you could stand please."

Hermione stood, moving away from the bed. Her arm covered her belly, feeling exposed. She shivered, it was not cold, but it felt strange to be without her clothes. She never was this naked, it went against everything her parents had told her. They would see the scars. She turned to look at McGonagall, she continued to hold her folded clothes. Maybe she could get them back and they could return to Hogwarts? She didn't need an examination after all. What had she been thinking taking off her clothes! She was disobeying her parents yet again! When they heard about this they would be furious.

The nurse began to look her over, her clipboard floating in midair while a pen wrote by itself. She maneuvered Hermione gently, instructing her to raise her arms or bend her back a certain way. Hermione did as she was instructed. She couldn't do a lot of what was asked of her, and it made her frustrated. Why was she asking her to do things she obviously couldn't achieve? But the instructions went on and on.

After what seemed like an eternity, she was allowed back onto the bed. Hermione felt exhausted, all those ridiculous exercises had wiped her out. She was cold now, having worked up a sweat. What could be next? More pointless tasks? A part of her scolded herself for being such a petulant child. They were adults, they probably had good reasons for this. She had read books about doctors, perhaps she was overreacting.

"Alright Hermione, I just have a few questions for you. I need you to answer them as honestly as you can." The nurse grabbed the floating clipboard, taking the pen in her hand.

Hermione's heart plummeted with those words. She remembered the rules, don't answer questions! Her parents told her almost every day. She had already broken a rule today. She couldn't break another! That was wrong, she would be doing wrong.

"I noticed some burn marks on your arms and legs. Can you tell me where you got those?" The nurse asked softly.

Hermione swallowed the knot in her throat. It took everything she had to speak up. She didn't want to anger McGonagall or the nurse, but she couldn't break another rule.

"I'm not a very good baker." She could hear her high pitched voice give her away. She forced a chuckle. It sounded more like a hiccup to her ears.

"A baker? Oh my. What do you like to bake?" The nurse asked. Hermione stared at her in confusion. She wanted to know what she liked to bake. Hermione racked her brain, what did she like to bake?

"Snow cones!" She muttered, flustered. She instantly blushed at the incredibly stupid answer, gazing at the floor with intense interest. Don't ask me, don't ask me, she thought furiously.

Silence met her ears, and she was grateful that the nurse chose to move on to the other questions rather than point out her blatant lie.

"Ok Hermione, have you ever been to a hospital before this?"

Hermione sighed in relief; at least this was a question she could answer without breaking a rule. "No, I haven't. There was never a reason to go before."

If Hermione had looked up, she would have seen the outraged shock on the nurse's face or the warning look in McGonagall's. But she didn't because she was very interested in the floor, and thinking hard of possible responses to any question the nurse could ask.

"Can you tell me where you got this scar?" The nurse gently pulled her arm away from her stomach. Hermione blinked in surprise at being touched, before looking at what the nurse meant. On her hip, partially covered by her underwear was the single word etched into her skin.

Hermione clapped a hand over the offending mark. She didn't want anyone to see what was written there, her shame for all to see. She had hoped that the nurse wouldn't see it.

"I think I want my clothes back. I don't need a Physical Examination. M- My parents wouldn't approve of this. I think I need to go back to Hogwarts now." She stuttered firmly.

She looked over at McGonagall, keeping a hand on her waist to hide the mark.

"We don't blame any of this on you Hermione. You are safe here, you can answer questions. There are no wrong answers. I won't let anyone hurt you, I promise." McGonagall swore as she rose from her seat, coming to the side of the bed.

"My clothes please, I don't want to be here." Her eyes watered, and she held back her emotions, not wanting to break down here. Hermione knew she really hadn't a choice coming here to begin with, but maybe if she kept demanding they would let her go and forget all about this. She didn't need to be checked up.

She felt sick to her stomach demanding for anything. Demanding was wrong. As was answering questions and letting people see her scars. But she had broken the others so why stop? Her parents would punish her, and then everything would be alright.

"The healers still have a lot of things they want to test, but what if they don't ask any more questions? We will go back to Hogwarts the moment they are done. Is that alright with you Hermione?" McGonagall told her.

Hermione closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath. She could feel the same wave of sadness lap at the edges of her mind. Like a wave crashing at the shore before dragging itself back into the depths of the sea.

Hermione let out a sigh of relief as the strange feeling left her mind completely. She opened her eyes to see two very concerned women watching her. They shared knowing looks with each other, glances that confused Hermione.

"N-no more questions." Hermione tried to stay firm. She knew she didn't stand a chance in leaving. If those shared looks were anything to go by.

McGonagall nodded in assent , and the nurse fiddled with the drawers at the other side of the room.

Hermione didn't realize she was holding her breath until it fled her lungs in a huff. Her body relaxed from its stiff pose. She kept her hand on her hip to cover the mark there, refusing to move it.

"Alright Hermione, we are almost done with this part. Then you can get dressed and the Healer will see you." The nurse informed her. The blonde haired witch had kept her polite and happy attitude throughout the checkup. Hermione perked up at the mention of clothes. She sat still, hoping to end this as soon as possible.

The nurse waved her wand over her once more and Hermione felt the cold trickle of energy along her spine. The time passed quickly, Hermione spent the time wondering if Harry was going through the same thing. How was he faring? Did he have to do the same things she had to do?

The nurse finally announced she was done and let Hermione get dressed back into her clothes. Hermione had never been happier to get dressed in the pristine clothing. The clothes covered everything she didn't like others to see. They just didn't understand. She should have never allowed it to go this far. She hated herself in that moment, drawing the clothes close to her frame.

"All righty then, I will be back with the Healer. He will explain the next procedure with you. Hermione's eyes shot to McGonagall. A procedure?! What did they plan to do to her! Hermione's body began to shake against her will. She did not want to be here, she didn't! Her parents were going to be so mad…

McGonagall looked to calm the panicking girl trembling on the bed. She rose and placed a careful hand on the girl's shoulder. Hermione jerked her head up to look at McGonagall clearly. She didn't expect to be touched.

"Anything that the Healers want to do won't injure you. Why don't you tell me what is bothering you?" McGonagall asked gently.

Should she tell her? Hermione weighed the pros and cons clinically like only a logical mind could do. It could make McGonagall angry. If it was one thing Hermione had noticed, it was the strange reactions of the new adults around her. Why didn't they yell? Why didn't they punish? Hermione did not like what she did not know, what she could not explain.

What she did not know she studied. But Hermione could not study McGonagall within the time it took the Healer to show up. Hermione couldn't just throw her trust to someone she had not studied could she? That was not how the world worked, throwing trust about.

But that hope inside her, the one that whispered to her that she could trust adults. And perhaps, if she told McGonagall what she wanted to know, she could help. She could send the Healer away and they could return Hermione to her parents. Those were logical steps one would take. One conclusion leading to another. In ways that were not confusing and understandable.

Before Hermione's courage could desert her, she blurted out what she thought. "You're making me break the rules! Answering questions, letting these people see my skin! Making me do bad things, lying! I'm breaking the rules, my parents will be upset!" She turned away from McGonagall, cringing and waiting for the blow that was sure to follow from such an outburst.

Hermione waited, her eyes squeezed shut. She didn't want to see it coming. No hand descended upon her, leaving her scared and confused as she waited in darkness. Was McGonagall waiting for her to let her guard down to hit her? Hermione peeked a glance to the left. McGonagall was looking at her calmly, her hand still grasping her shoulder.

"I am not going to hit you Hermione. I won't punish you for telling me what you think. You can always tell me what you feel alright? I will never punish you by hitting you."

Hermione straightened cautiously, her eyes watching intently for a hand twitching to strike. McGonagall tolerated her mistrustful gaze. Hermione didn't really believe her, it wasn't the way of things.

"I know you want to be returned to your parents. You are a smart girl; I know that for a fact. So I need to pick your brain for a moment. When you were at your house, who was in charge?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the question. "My father. And my mother." Why was she asking her this? Was this a trick?

"And where are you living now?" McGonagall questioned, her green hat tipping towards her.

"H-Hogwarts." Hermione answered uncertainly, not sure where this was leading.

"So who is in charge at Hogwarts?"

Hermione frowned, her mouth tugging down, considering the question she was being asked. "I would suppose D-Dumbledore, Madame Pomfrey and you."

"That is correct. So, since your parents are not at Hogwarts, who is in charge of you?"

Hermione's eyes widened as she caught the trail of thought. "Dumbledore, Madame Pomfrey and you."

"That means that we make the rules. And it is we who will decide our punishments, should you require it. Our rules will be the ones that matter. If you follow that line of thought, it is my rules you should worry about."

Hermione frowned in concentration. What was McGonagall really trying to tell her? Where she was dictated what rules she should follow? Her parents had once told her to respect others rules when she stayed over at their house. So she should follow McGonagall's rules? She should be honest and tell everyone her thoughts? That didn't seem normal at all. She would have to analyze this new situation late when she was alone.

Hermione nodded her head jerkily. She didn't know what the other rules McGonagall had, so she wouldn't give complete compliance. Hermione had been bred to follow the rules laid out before her. She simply couldn't drop one set of rules for an obscure one. It simply wasn't rational.

"Since I already promised there would be no further questions, perhaps next time will be more successful. No one wants to hurt you Hermione, we just want to help." McGonagall smiled at her, patting her shoulder.

The door opened, revealing a grim faced Dilys Derwent, the nurse trailing behind him. Hermione sunk lower on the bed, trying to make herself invisible. It was laughable, seeing as she was practically displayed on the only bed in the room, but it made Hermione feel better. Was the Healer displeased at her for not answering the nurse's questions?

"I'm so sorry," She blurted, her face flushing red.

Hermione blinked in shock when the Healer jumped, startled at her outburst. He looked at her, surprise in his face,

"Merlin's toes! Didn't expect that, whatever on earth are you sorry for?" He chuckled, waiting for answer curiously.

Hermione swallowed with some difficulty. "I- didn't answer all the questions." The room seemed too small for Hermione, with five people staring at her.

"I see," Dilys said gravelly. "Those questions will have to be answered, but it can wait until another day. Right now I want to talk about something else."

The nurse handed the Healer the pages off the workspace. The Healer reviewed them quickly, holding some up to get a closer look. Hermione could make out some of her bones and tissue. If she wasn't so frightened, she would be very interested in looking at the "X-rays" in the Healer's hand.

The Healer handed the papers back to the nurse, turning back to them with a cheerful smile on his face. "You have completed most of the tests, however before I can create a treatment plan one last procedure is needed."

He caught the look on Hermione's face. "Ah, no need to panic. It really isn't that scary." Dilys waved his wand and summoned a chair. He sat, rolling his chair closer to the bed. He was eye level to her now, his eyes warm and inviting.

"What I want to do had been done hundreds of times, with no lasting side effects. I am a Healer, I can heal a lot of things, including the mind. But I have to know what I'm dealing with before I can help. Professor McGonagall told me you like to read. Would you take a test on something without studying first?"

Hermione shook her head no, her mind still grinding of the bit of information involving "healing the mind." There was nothing wrong with her mind!

"Exactly. So what I want to do is simply see your life like you see it. That's all. I can't change your memories or take them away. You and I will take a potion tasting wonderfully like mangoes. You will begin to feel sleepy, and it will be dark for moment. Then we will both experience parts of your life again. Some of the best and the worst." Dilys leaned back to take in her reaction.

Hermione just sat there. Did Harry already do this? She could imagine his reaction. She hadn't heard any screaming or felt any earthquakes.

"Did Harry..?" She trailed off.

The Healer seemed to know what she was asking. "Yes he did, it took some convincing though."

"Was he angry after?" If Harry was angry after going through with this, it would mean he regretted allowing someone in his head. Hermione knew Harry felt strongly about this issue. Frankly, she was surprised he didn't drag himself out of here, kicking and screaming the entire way.

The Healer hesitated before answering. "He was," he dipped his head, "but not because of the procedure."

Hermione raised her eyes to meet the Healers. She flinched and almost lowered her head again, but she fought against that feeling. "What was he upset about?" She needed to know, to stop the foreboding feeling in her stomach.

The Healer considered the question. "I can't discuss other patients, but he was upset about his past. He will be back to himself before you leave. Have no worries Miss Granger, Harry is alright. Now, what do you say? Shall we proceed? Then we can all get along with our day, and it is such a beautiful day outside after all."

Hermione glanced at McGonagall, who seemed to be waiting for her answer as well as everyone else. Not used to making her own decisions, Hermione just nodded to agree with the adults present.

"Excellent! If you could ready the potion Mrs. Chaffey, we can begin immediately. Please lie back Hermione, there you are."

Hermione leaned back onto the bed, scooting up so her head rested on the slight incline of the bed. She stared at the ceiling, the white square tiles covering her view. She heard the sounds of rustlings and lo whispering.

"Alright," Dilys came into her view, handing her a bottle with peach colored contents. "Once you drink this you'll start to fall asleep. At your ready."

Hermione took a deep breath, feeling a brush of skin against her unoccupied hand. Hermione grasped the fingers, holding McGonagall's hand in her own. She downed the potion before she could second guess the entire situation.

She felt sleepy almost immediately; someone took the glass from her hand as she slumped against the bed. Darkness encroached her senses as she relented to the oncoming rush.

**OoOoOoOo**

Hermione found herself lying face down in the grass. She groaned, dragging herself up. Where was she? Her head hurt terribly.

"Come on you buck toothed freak! Stay down if you know what is good for you!" Hermione realized she was surrounded by a ring of her classmates. Hermione would recognize that voice anywhere, it was the voice that brought nightmares into her dreams. A brunet girl named Layla. Hermione's throat closed as she remembered where she was.

Layla's eyes were hardened slits just like Hermione remembered them being. "Freak." She hissed at her. Hermione's eyes welled up at the well-remembered word. She was at her old primary school.

Hermione's mouth moved on its own accord, repeating the words she had said once before. "Just leave me alone, I didn't do anything to you!" Hermione could feel the dull pain from the slap she had received just moments just before.

"You know exactly what you did Freak! You and your weird parents, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree." Layla taunted.

"Well at least I have parents!" Hermione shot back, regretting her outburst instantly as she did the first time around. Everyone knew Layla's family was going through a divorce, and sounds of "oooh" traveled through the ring of children, delighted to have entertainment.

Layla lunged at her, knocking her back to the ground. Hermione raised her arms to protect her head as blows came raining down. The sides of her ribs already ached from the punishment she received from her parents earlier that day, Layla unknowingly landed hits on her injured body.

Layla rose, getting a parting kick to her stomach. "You're such a mouse Hermione Granger! Everyone hates you! Do us all a favor and off yourself, no one even cares about you!"

A student called out warning, a teacher had spotted the odd grouping of children. They scattered like the winds, leaving Hermione curled up in the grass. She shivered, the words of the girl sinking into her mind yet again.

**OoOoOoOoOo**

Hermione found herself seated at the table, a cake and several presents before her. Her mouth split into a smile as she blew out the candle, her parents singing her Happy Birthday. Hermione counted the candles, ten. Her tenth Birthday. Her parents had even tried to decorate, the room held three colorful balloons.

"Happy Birthday sweetie. Almost grown up, ten years old!" Her father laughed, leaning down to plant a kiss on her forehead. Her mother came and wrapped her arms around her, hugging her tight.

"How did we end up with such a smart child?" Her mother grinned, asking her father.

"I don't know, but I would guess it had to do with a lot of luck." Her father replied solemnly, before bursting into laughter. Hermione felt the familiar feelings of love and happiness wash over her. Her parents loved her. She had always felt like this moment was perfect and this just proved it.

"Alright open your presents dear, we made reservations for lunch, so only a small piece of cake now." Her father ruffled her hair, sliding a brightly wrapped present to her.

**OoOoOoOoOo**

Hermione blinked, taking in her surroundings. She was putting together a waterfall puzzle at the kitchen table. Her heart plummeted, she knew what memory she was in. She really _really _didn't want anyone watching her right now.

A door slammed, shaking the entire house. Heavy stomps came from her parent's bedroom. Her father slammed his fist on the table, shattering the half-finished puzzle. Puzzle pieces flew everywhere, some landing on the floor.

Hermione shrunk into her seat, watching her father as he tried to formulate words. Once he did however, he had no problem voicing them.

"I just got a call from your teachers. They are asking questions Hermione! QUESTIONS! I told you how I felt about questions! Wait until your mother hears about this! What did they ask you? ANSWER ME or I swear to God Hermione, I will spank you to kingdom come!" Her father's face was an angry red. He waved his hands as he yelled at her.

"I didn't tell them anything, I swear I didn't!" Hermione whispered feebly, wishing herself to disappear.

Her father only became angrier. "You're lying, you stupid idiot! When I ask you a question, you answer me truthfully!" He growled, dragging her out of the chair, shaking her until her teeth rattled.

"What did they did they ask you?" he asked roughly.

"They didn't ask anything! I didn't say anything, I promise!" Hermione sobbed, trying to free herself from his grip.

"STOP LYING!" He roared, throwing her across the room. Hermione's head hit the wall, and her arm landed underneath her, something snapping there.

Hermione howled, the unmistakable pain rushing to her arm.

"Stop crying! This is your fault, you lied!" Her father looked ill at ease staring at the oddly bent appendage.

"Stop crying right now! You brought this on yourself." He told her sternly, stomping out of the room.

**OoOoOoOo**

Hermione straightened, walking alongside her mother. She didn't want to do this anymore, she wanted to wake up. Could she wake up, or would this go on forever? But this was a good memory right? That was the pattern so far, bad good bad good? So this had to be good? Hermione didn't remember this memory though. She looked around, they were walking into a gas station.

The entered the small convenient store. It looked like any ordinary convenient shop, and Hermione racked her brain for the memory of this. Obviously she had to know or she wouldn't be re-experiencing it. But she just couldn't place it. She waited as her mother paid for gas, waiting behind a couple of people in line.

Her mother paid for gas, and they went to move towards the door, but the cashier stopped them. He held something in his hand, offering it down to her. "For such a beautiful little girl." The middle aged man grinned at her, urging her to take it.

Hermione accepted the object with a blush. She looked down at the object, a chocolate bar.

Her mother moved to pay, but the man waved them off. "Free of charge, you take care now alright?" Hermione nodded, "Thank you." She waved as they left.

**OoOoOoOo**

Hermione sat off to the back in an armchair. The thing dwarfed her, and several other kids hung and lay over the mammoth chair. They all giggled as they watched the clown who was desperately keep their attention.

Hermione turned her attention to the girl lying across her lap without a care in the world. "Want to open my present now." Hermione whispered to friend.

Her friend nodded, not hiding her glee very well. They slinked off the armchair, sneaking into the kitchen. The table was laden with presents, but Hermione had no problem identifying the one she wrapped. She plucked it off the table, presenting it to her friend. "I love the wrapping, ladybugs are the best!" Layla gushed, shaking the package. Hermione smiled with pride.

"I wrapped it myself, my dad let me use kitchen scissors."

"Let's unwrap it in the tree house, come on!" Layla grabbed her wrist and dragged her along. In moments they were out in the sunshine and climbing the ladder to her friend's small tree house. But they were small girls, so they fit perfectly with room to spare.

Layla ripped open to wrapping, gasping in delight at the contents. "How did you know?!" she squealed, hugging her best friend. She held up a necklace and matching earrings.

"My mom and I are going to get my ears pierced as soon as the party is over, but you didn't know that… You're the best Hermione." Layla said with real affection.

"Happy sixth birthday Layla," Hermione laughed.

Layla put on the necklace, the simple but pretty necklace sparkling on her neck. "I'll save the earrings for later." Layla told her.

Hermione rolled her eyes, of course she would have to wait; her ears weren't pierced yet! "Come on, let's get back to your party."

Layla nodded, swinging across to the ladder. She went to grab the rope as she tripped over a crooked board. They weren't even supposed to be up here, with all the rusty nails and broken boards. Hermione watched in horror as she fell past the opening, already starting her decent to the ground.

The most horrible scream Hermione heard in her life rented the air. Hermione threw herself forward, her hands grasping at air. Desperation flooded her as she feared for her friend. It was such a long drop down. Layla screamed, halfway to the ground.

A tingling rushed through Hermione, fleeing from her fingertips and flowing around her falling friend. Blue mist surround Layla, slowing her decent until she hovered midair, a foot from the ground.

The blue mist deposited Layla on the ground, slowly retreating back to Hermione. Hermione saw Layla look up her, watching the mist disappear when it reached her fingertips.

Layla rose from the ground, dusting herself off before fleeing from her. "Layla wait!" Hermione cried out, descending the ladder as fast as she could.

She raced inside, finding Layla talking with her parents. Foreboding filled Hermione, knowing nothing good would come from this.

Hermione grabbed Layla's arm, dragging her friend away from her parents, ignoring their shocked looks. "Stay away from me," Layla hissed. "I don't know what that was, but that was weird! I'm telling my parents!"

"No!" Hermione burst, "don't tell your parents, I don't know what that was either! I didn't have anything to do with it, I don' know what that was."

"No! I'm telling them!" Layla wrenched her arm away. "Freak!"

Hermione felt the crushing sadness and fear at her words.

**OoOoOoOo**

Hermione awoke, tears streaming down her face. Her body convulsed, trying to expel the fear and darkness from her. She felt a hand on her back, she flinched in fear, the memories still fresh in her mind. She curled up into a ball, sobs wracking her body. It was her fault after all, memories couldn't lie. She was a freak. She cried out her pain, not hearing the Healer telling the others to let her be.

It took a half hour until she felt in control enough to go into the waiting room. She sat on the floor next to Harry, who was staring out into the distance at nothing. She didn't feel like exploring at all, she just wanted to sit beside Harry and think about nothing. But even her mind was a traitor, forcing to think about what she relived.

Before she could get lost in her thoughts, Harry shifted, placing his hand on his thigh, palm facing upwards. Hermione took that a sign and put her hand in his. Harry squeezed it lightly, like he was trying to tell her he wasn't completely gone. Hermione relaxed and joined him in staring at nothingness.

After a good amount of time, McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey came into the waiting room and helped them both up. Hermione stayed close to Harry, who seemed more shell shocked than her. They made appointments for next week, Hermione listened with halfhearted interest. Her head felt stuffed with cotton.

They left the way they came, the swirling fireplace making her dizzy and confused. She skidded across the floor like the first time, being caught by Madame Pomfrey. She waited for Harry to come through before allowing herself to be led to her bed. She collapsed on the bed, her limbs still trembling like she fought for her life. She gave in to sleep, praying they wouldn't be like her memories.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: Thank you for all the reviewers out there. If you haven't gotten a response from me I apologize, you may have gotten lost in the crowd, and that is not my intention. So a thank you, to those who reviewed. **

**We will now be moving into recovery and friendship, as the story was intended to go. Hopefully it will now be moving at a faster pace, rather than the snail's crawl so far. Thank you for bearing with me as we traverse this story's ups and downs. **

**OoOoOoOo**

"What do you recommend as a treatment plan?" McGonagall would not sugar coat the conversation. She wanted a strict plan, and she wouldn't leave until she got one. McGonagall took the offered seat, settling next to Madame Pomfrey, who was awaiting their arrival.

Dilys Derwent's office was good sized, and his walls were covered in charts and diagrams of different patients. McGonagall viewed this all with a critical eye. Dilys settled in his chair behind his desk, sorting through the stack of files in his hands. He sighed heavily before facing the two women in his office.

"The situation is terrible." He said flatly. "If they were not already taken out of the care of their "guardians," he scoffed disgustedly, "then I would have done it the minute I left this office. "

"As it is," He leaned forward, "I do not see how these two children are functioning normally at all." He held his hand up to stop Madame Pomfrey from speaking, who had begun to open her mouth.

"Even the potions administered would not be enough to help their case. Let's discuss Harry first. He, I believe, are the better of the two. He is at least showing signs of latent anger. The abuse he suffered at the hands of his uncle and aunt was horrifying."

Dilys rubbed a hand across his forehead. "He is starved, though I see signs of a few good meals of late. His growth is severely stunted, and that alone would be an interesting problem to correct. But he seems to have a block on his magic. A self-made block, due in part to his upbringing. To top that off it seems he had some badly healed bones, and he has a debilitating fear of authority figures."

He nodded at the grim faces looking back at him. "Yes, that is what I thought your reactions would be. His mental state is shady at best, I would need more time with him to truly get a feel on Mr. Potter. He shields his true thoughts very well."

"Can they be healed?" Madame Promfrey asked gently, as if fearing the answer.

Dilys considered the question seriously, folding his hands on the desk before him. "The mind is an interesting thing. I have seen children who have gone through less destroy themselves within months of starting treatment. It depends on the child. A mind put through such trials does not leave unscathed, no matter how talented the Healer."

"What about Hermione?" McGonagall asked, hands clenched in her lap. She couldn't imagine what she was going to hear next, if Harry was the "better" of the two.

"Ah, Miss Granger." Dilys frowned. "Most troubling indeed. She is very open with her thoughts. There are things I do not understand quite yet, so let's discuss her Physical first."

Dilys reached for the manila file waiting on his desk. "She completed thirty percent of the required ninety for manipulation and movement of the body. Basically she can run, jump, and climb to the barest minimum."

Dilys observed McGonagall's confused expression. "To put that in perspective, a healthy girl her age can pass on average with a ninety-eight." Horror flashed across McGonagall's face.

"Many, many improperly healed broken bones, healed fractures. That does not worry me honestly, that can be improved, if not fixed completely. But the condition of her skin. There may be some we missed, but I count ten major class scars, and about fifteen of the minor category, of course not even considering her back. That will take some thinking about, considering they were not healed immediately. Then there is the word carved on her hip, I believe that is the one she is most ashamed about?"

"Mentally, she poses a challenge. I cannot find a single speck of anger directed towards her parents in her body." Dilys scowled. "I expect that to a degree in any patient, it is her parents after all. But she inherently believes she is evil."

"I don't see how that is worse than Harry, it seems they have different problems, but one not greater than the other." Madame Pomfrey pointed out.

Dilys blinked. "Hermione is holding to tightly to her magic. I am sure she is not even aware of it. She is gripping it so tightly I could not get a read off her signature. Surely you noticed?"

Madame Pomfrey blushed in embarrassment. "I was a bit preoccupied with other things lately." McGonagall frowned, realizing she hadn't felt anything from Hermione either.

"Based off your prior letters I am assuming you want them improved before the start of term? So I will base my treatment off that, but I warn you both now. I do not believe allowing them to be exposed to a host of first years is the best plan. I will place down guidelines for their treatment when they are not at the Hospital, and I will need to see them three times a week."

Dilys began writing quickly, signing slips that crowded his desk. "One last thing we must discuss." He handed them both thick files. McGonagall opened hers, scanning the stack of paper before her.

McGonagall's heart sunk. "Are these their memories?"

Dilys nodded solemnly. "You can read the unhappier ones later, but I wish to address their happiest memories."

McGonagall scanned the papers until she found the one he spoke of. She frowned in confusion at the blank spot.

"Madame Pomfrey, you hold Harry's file. Harry's happiest memory is also a recent one. A Mr. Hagrid offering to take Harry away. Obviously anyone can understand that reasoning. But it wasn't his happiest because he would finally be out of the clutches of his guardians. No, I conclude it was his happiest memory because he was given a choice in the matter. That is very helpful to know."

"Now, Hermione's, you will notice that her slot is left empty."

"Are you telling me she doesn't have a single happy memory?" McGonagall shrilled disbelievingly. McGonagall wanted to give the Grangers a taste of their own medicine, preferably in the most painful way possible.

"I am not implying that, though she has a rather obvious lack of happy memories. No, I think Hermione is hiding it from me." Dilys soothed, leaning back in his chair, ruffling his hair.

"What? How is that even possible?" Madame Pomfrey asked in surprise. "I thought the potion you administered was foolproof."

"It usually is. This is the matter that concerns me. Is she so ashamed of her happiest memory she buried it as far as was mentally possible? Buried so deep within herself she never even thinks of it? That would imply she knew what she was doing, but I do not think that is the case. Hermione is masking something, something big." Dilys told them.

"What could she possibly be hiding?" McGonagall frowned.

"Please consider this. Muggle are known for being a bit… skittish around magic at times. But do you obviously believe that not one, but two parents hating their child so much for simply saving her own life and theirs with accidental magic?"

"I saw there neglect with my own eyes, they beat the skin off her." McGonagall growled.

"And how would that explain Harry's case? " Madame Pomfrey added.

"Harry," Dilys winced, "Harry was given to two terrible people. But there anger is explainable. I did some research before you came. Petunia Dursley has a severe case of jealously and hate aimed at her sister for leaving her as a child to learn magic. Petunia Dursley grew up hating, married a hating man and was creating a hating child. You can trace the steps of their fault from their childhood."

"But the Granger's. Their case is doesn't add up. There are too many gaps in this story for me to give a diagnostic. When more information comes in from the Granger's, we can begin piecing the matter together."

"I refuse to accept your theory of explainabilty for harming two very sweet children." McGonagall bit off irritably.

"Yes, well I suppose I should keep my theories to myself until I have complete proof." Dilys conceded.

"Now, I will see you all next Thursday? Good then."

**OoOoOoOoOo**

Fog clung forest floor, swirling and rising. The mist clung everywhere, to the dark shadowy trees to the lichen covered rocks. The wind wisped in an eerie call, rattling the leaves of the forest, creating a symphony of sound.

"M-my lord, contacts at the Ministry inform me of a discrepancy concerning Hogwarts." The quivering man seemed to speak to the air. Any onlooker would edge away from the unstable looking man, but Quirell wish he was only unstable. His predicament was much more interesting than simple insanity.

When Quirell traveled to Albania, he had anticipated a long relaxing vacation pursuing his favorite subject-vampires. But it was not vampires he discovered under the shady forest deep in the Albanian country, no, Quirinus Quirell found something much greater.

"Sssspeak Quirell, I cannot last long in this place. My sssoul already seeks to leave this place."

Quirell shivered at the sound. If death had a voice, Quirell imagined that is what it would sound like. It clung to the air like it was grasping at straws, fighting to be heard.

"My Lord, there is talk of something odd happening with one of the Hogwarts artifacts." Quirell spoke to the air before him. He could not see his master, but he could feel a cold, leeching presence before him. Quirell straightened his turban nervously.

"Ssspit it out Quirell, perhapsss you need prompting?" the airborne hiss threatened.

"N-no my Lord," Quirell exclaimed. Quirell shuddered, imagining what the disembodied spirit would do to him. "I-I believe the artifact to be Thoth's Scroll. From what I have gathered, names appeared upon its page before their times. There are rumors, My lord, of Harry Potter being one on the list."

"Do not ssspeak that name to me! It is presumptuous of you to think this was valuable information…" Quirell swallowed, trying to dislodge the stone in his throat. "But, you are correct thiss time. I have been gone from the flesh world for far too long. I require something from you, Quirell. If this works, you shall have greater power than you ever imagined. Do not fail me, loyal one. Listen closely…"

Quirell leaned in closer, concentrating on the instructions given to him.

**OoOoOoOoOo**

"Well, I think that clears up today's session. I will see you next Thursday then? Practice those exercises I told you about alright?"

Hermione nodded, hopping down off the Hospital bed. It was her fourth session with the Healer, and she still did not know what to think of him. He seemed to study her with his eyes, searching for something within Hermione that he didn't understand.

They hadn't done much in her sessions, the Healer seemed focused upon her physical health at the moment, but Hermione summarized attention would be put towards her mental state soon enough. She didn't exactly want to hurry that part along, so she consented to the parade of exercise the Healer gave her. Lunch became a complicated affair, having to take at least ten different kinds of magical medicine. It was all very clinical, and Hermione was thankful for that. She wasn't asked a single question, the Healer and nurse seemed content to busy themselves with whatever information they had gleaned from her the first time.

There was truly nothing wrong with her mind to begin with, and at least they weren't wasting valuable resources on her. Hermione exited the door held open by the nurse, and went to sit by the bookshelves to wait for Harry. So far they both had their appointments around the same times.

Hermione busied herself with the picture books, wishing she knew how they were made. When she asked Madame Pomfrey, she told her it was a complicated spell. One she might learn to do one day. Hermione didn't know what to think about that. Using magic. It brought to her mind today's planned outing.

The start of the new school year for Hogwarts was coming up soon. They needed to go and shop for supplies. Harry seemed excited; Hermione didn't really know what to think. On one hand, learning magic and doing what Madame Pomfrey and McGonagall did everyday sounded brilliant, even if she only admitted it to herself.

Then there was the entirely different problem of her placement at Hogwarts to begin with. Hermione wanted to be with her parents, and if came down to choosing to leave with her parents and staying at the school, it was really no choice at all.

Certainly, she would feel guilty. She would be leaving her new found friend behind, but she knew Harry would understand. At least, she hoped he would. In fact, Hermione was getting tired of avoiding the conversation. She would ask what was going on and that would be that.

The problem was, Hermione accepted the fact that she would be starting Hogwarts with Harry if she did nothing to stop it. And she didn't know if she even wanted to stop it. The things she had seen so far were amazing, and she hadn't had any outbursts in days. She felt like a betrayer to her parents, but did she really want to leave the school?

The sound of voices brought her attention from the picture book. Harry walked out with the Healer behind him. She spotted Madame Pomfrey walking beside him as well. Hermione rose, meeting up with the trio at the receptionist's desk.

"Alright then, I will see you all next Saturday. Enjoy the rest of your week, and don't forget to practice those exercises, both of you." Dilys summarized, handing the receptionist his notes. He beamed at him, and Hermione wondered if it hurt to walk around smiling like he did. Could you wear out your smiling muscles?

"Alright, come along children, we must get ready." Madame Pomfrey herded them towards the fireplace. Hermione allowed herself to be corralled in front of the fireplace, dutifully grasping a handful of the green powder. She was nervous about today. They would be leaving Hogwarts for a shopping trip.

McGonagall would meet them there, it seemed out of place for Hermione to go somewhere without McGonagall. This was the first time McGonagall hadn't been present at the checkup with her. It made her nervous, another anomaly in her set schedule.

Harry went first, shouting the name they were told would take them to the start of their shopping trip. Madame Pomfrey made them practice it before they left Hogwarts. Hermione never knew there could be so many ways she could be embarrassed. Ever since she arrived at Hogwarts every possible situation was brought to her attention. Standing in an empty hall shouting out a street name was not high on her list of acceptable behavior. Harry seemed to enjoy the absurdity of it all though, maybe she was too uptight about it.

As Harry spun out of view, Hermione stepped up and took his place. She took a deep breath, she was still nervous about this whole fireplace travel thing, and shouted the destination name.

"Diagon Alley!" Her surrounding swirled and spun, and she caught a last glance of Madame Pomfrey smiling at her.

**OoOoOoOoOo**

Hermione stumbled out of the fireplace, and she immediately set out looking for Harry. The place looked like a scene cut out of a medieval fairy tale. It was some sort of drinking establishment, with a long bar and wood tables. It felt very casual, and it was clean overall. Plates and cups floated in midair to rest at their subjects table, and rags wiped down things on their own volition.

Hermione questioned the judgment of the adults to send them here, but she hoped they didn't pronounce anything wrong. From what she understood, the smallest mistake could send you elsewhere than you originally intended.

She scanned the area quickly, but she didn't spot Harry. There was however, a large group of people huddled together, talking rather loudly across the room. Words found their way over to Hermione, setting her on edge.

"Let us see your scar Harry!"

"Is it true you vanquished the Dark Lord?"

"Harry Potter knows who I am! Did you hear that?"

Hermione peered within the group, and she caught a flash of white fabric. Just by glancing around before, Hermione knew no one wore white readily enough in this place, which meant Harry was inside that mob right now!

Hermione's gut clenched, she felt fear for her friend. Why were they crowding him like that? Hermione never asked about his scar, she knew Harry would tell her when he was ready. But why would one boy's oddly shaped scar attract the attention of so many colorfully dressed people?

One thing was for certain, Harry didn't like attention. And if he hadn't been able to get out on his own, he needed help. Madame Pomfrey would be here soon, surely she could help? But no, Hermione did not know if they were in the right place, so could she wait for help to arrive when her friend so obviously needed it?

_Her friend_. Hermione knew what she had to do, and it nearly tied her insides into knots at the thought. Hermione drew herself up, dusting the black smudges off her clothes best she could, and marched towards the pack of brightly dressed people. She wove through the crowd, making her way easily to the center. It was there she found Harry, pale and shaking, stuttering out answers the best he could. She grabbed his elbow, tugging lightly.

Harry turned to her, warning flashing in his eyes. Hermione nearly took a step back from the fierce look in his face. But Harry's eyes softened after realizing who she was.

"Don't answer any more questions." She whispered to him, edging closer. Harry nodded, seeing as he really didn't want to answer questions to begin with. They eased close together, as if to shield the other form the curious gazes and exuberant questions.

The crowd's noise level rose to a dull roar, shooting out questions and excited chattering.

"Harry! Harry! Will you sign my copy of Magical Wizards of the Modern Ages?"

"Harry my lad, you simply must meet my youngest daughter. I am sure you would be the best of friends."

"Harry, I heard when you come of age you're going to take over the Ministry of Magic!"

"Is it true you're a magical animagus?"

Hermione couldn't believe the way these people were carrying on. She didn't know half of what they were asking. Shouldn't they be more composed? They were the adults! What were they thinking asking Harry questions like this? They weren't his parents. Though she was sure to get in trouble for this later, she couldn't allow herself to sneak off and let Harry take the brunt of this madness.

She psyched herself up, trying to be brave. It went against everything she believed, staying low and out of sight. She stepped forward in front of Harry her mouth open, ready to give them all a talking to.

"That is quite enough I think! Get out of my way before I jinx you! Do not give me that look sir, I still haven't told your mother the real reason you showed up covered in spots three years ago!" A voice broke through the crowd, loud enough for everyone to hear.

The sound of laughing filled Hermione's ears and the crowd parted to give way. Madame Pomfrey came into view, scowling at the group of people hovering around them.

"What kind of reception is this? Trying to scare my charges to death? You lot ought to know better." Hermione closed her mouth in relief, Madame Pomfrey had found them.

"Come with me children, did anyone hurt you?" Madame Pomfrey pulled them close and searched them for any injuries.

"Ah come on now Miss Pomfrey, we wouldn't hurt children." A man in burgundy robes pointed out, taking insult from the way Madame Pomfrey was carrying on.

Madame Pomfrey whirled around, glaring at anyone in her range. "Setting upon two children in such a way as I found them does not give me confidence in your abilities to distinguish right from wrong!" She raged.

With that she took Harry's and Hermione's hand and walked briskly out of the tavern. Hermione tried to catch her mind up with what happened. Madame Pomfrey had saved them! They exited the door into what looked like a back alley. A brick wall stopped them, and overall it seemed like a grungy place. Madame Pomfrey pulled them to a stop.

"Did you take a wrong turn?" Harry whispered to Madame Pomfrey, "I'm sure no one will notice if we head back inside."

Madame Pomfrey laughed, giving Harry a one armed hug. Harry stiffened in surprise, but didn't pull from the embrace.

"No, no dear boy. This is the entrance to Diagon Alley."

"Well ello' Madame Pomfrey."

Harry and Hermione twirled around in surprise.

"Hagrid!" Harry shouted in surprise. Hermione peered curiously at the large man before them. How they managed not to notice the giant man in the corner was baffling, but Hermione attributed to the rushed exit.

"Ah, Harry! Already growin' I see." The man boomed out a laugh, stepping forward and pulling Harry into a crushing hug. Hermione took a step back, trying to decide if her friend needed rescuing. Harry didn't seem to be in distress, if fact he seemed to be hugging back with all he was worth.

Once the scraggly man set Harry back onto the ground, he rummaged through one of his many pockets before pulling a wrapped brown paper package out and handing it to Madame Pomfrey.

"Dumbledore said you'd know wha to do with that." Hagrid gave Madame Pomfrey a knowing look.

"What are you doing here Hagrid?" Harry asked, looking up at Hagrid.

"Well, funny you should ask that. I'm to take you to get yer supplies. Should be righ't fun." Hagrid smiled, Hermione could barely see his teeth through his beard. Hagrid patted his pockets, turning around before locating his umbrella.

"Alright Hagrid, here are their lists. Meet McGonagall when you get everything. She will be in ice-cream pallor in two hours. If you miss her then, she will be at the Leaky Cauldron." Madame Pomfrey handed the man pieces of parchment. Hagrid dutifully put them in his pocket, but Hermione doubted they would ever see the lists again.

"Please remember Hagrid, get what is on the list. Oh! I almost forgot!" Madame Pomfrey waved her wand over them both, Hermione felt the familiar feel of icy water pour over her. She looked down, seeing the soot from the fireplace disappear.

"I will see you both soon, listen to what Hagrid tells you." Madame Pomfrey told them as a goodbye and left them alone in the alley, going back inside the tavern.

Hagrid stepped past them and raised his umbrella. Hermione shot a glance at Harry, but he merely shrugged as if to say, magic. Hagrid mumbled under his breath, Hermione caught the words "Was it three over, two down? Always get em' messed up."

Hagrid gave a satisfied grunt, and tapped his umbrella on the red alley bricks. Hermione and Harry watched in fascination as the bricks began to shift. Like a domino effect, the bricks wiggled and shifted away from the middle, rearranging themselves to create an arch where there was none.

The sounds of a busy street hit their ears. Hagrid turned back to face them and beamed at his accomplishment. Hermione walked forward with Harry at Hagrid's urging.

There seemed so much going on, it was a busy day apparently. Hagrid didn't seem to mind, and chattered while they walked. Hermione stuck close to Harry, not knowing if Hagrid was trustworthy just yet. Harry seemed to forget all about her as he chatted with Hagrid.

"Aw, we will be needing to get yer cauldron's from there, I know Professor Snape takes a likin' to kids who get proper materials. Look at that, highway robbery payin' eighteen sickles an ounce for dragon scale. Lucky you don't need that righ' yet eh Harry?"

"So, who is this behind you Harry? Have a good summer so far? Better than those big muggles I'd bet. Watch out for that crate, Harry." Hagrid warned, pulling Harry by his scruff and setting him down again as the danger passed.

"Oh, this is Hermione, Hagrid. She's my best friend. This summer has been the best so far! Well, I don't really like the medicine and doctor- I mean Healer- part, but it is definitely better than the Dursely's." Harry told him.

Hermione glowed at Harry's words. She was so happy she could hardly speak. Harry's best friend?

"Nice to meet yea Hermione." Hagrid smiled at her, spotting her hiding behind Harry. "Ah well, I rekon' the Madame Pomfrey and McGonagall jus' want what's best for yea. They would never hurt yea."

"Yea." Harry said sullenly. He brightened, tugging on Hagrid's coat. "What's that place Hagrid?" he pointed. Hermione followed his point. A shop advertising animals of any kind, there were cages littered around its entrance. Hermione could faintly pick out screeches and barks from within the store.

"Ah let's save that for last shall we?" Hagrid chuckled at their confused faces.

"So where are we starting first Hagrid?" Hermione asked timidly, hoping to set them on track.

"Ah Gringotts firs' thing. You can see it from here. It's the biggest thing around. Goblins are petty creatures."

Hermione stretched on her tippy-toes to catch a look, but it was simply too crowded to see anything. They bustled along within the eye blinding crowd. Did everyone wear such neon colors?

"Did you say Goblins Hagrid?" Harry asked apprehensibly.

"Er, yes I did. Never insult a goblin Harry. There a prickly bunch, you'll learn that from the history books. It's impossible to steal from them in Gringotts, and if you did you'd never get out with what you stole. No one has ever broken in to Gringotts an came out alive. Safest place in the world, cept' Hogwarts maybe."

The crowd thinned and Hagrid began climbing creamy marble stairs. Harry and Hermione clambered after him. Hermione gasped when she raised her eyes. The place was beautiful, it looked _dangerous_. Tall spires and archways climbed all over the building, practically shouting wealth and power.

Statues of Goblins and Wizards were carved into the building as well, and if Hermione could have, she would have stayed and studied the amazing amount of detail depicted on the walls. They reached the top of the steps, and Hagrid opened a glass door for them.

Hermione and Harry walked in, cautiously looking at the surrounding area. The ground seemed to have a faint gold glitter, and counters made of heavy wood stood at all sides of the massive room. Lines assembled themselves here and there as people waited for service.

Hermione hadn't a clue on why they were here, but she gathered from the previous conversation that Gringotts was a bank. A Wizarding bank, if the colorful robes were any impression. She had no idea why _they_ were here though.

Hagrid led them to a teller. Hermione finally saw up close what a goblin looked like. It barely looked human, it was like it took human features, but twisted them to the extreme. Their ears were far too large, its nose too long and pointy, its teeth extremely sharp. It didn't look happy at all either. She didn't know what she expected when she heard "goblin" but this wasn't it.

"Yes?" the Goblin's voice seemed to curl up into a sneer. Hermione realized it actually was sneering down at them, not just its voice.

"I need to access a Mr. Potter's account and a Miss. Granger's." Hagrid told him gruffly.

The Goblin seemed surprised, and it leaned over its counter, to give itself a better view of the two children before him. Long knobbly fingers tapped the desk thoughtfully.

"Do you have Mr. Potter and Miss Granger's key?" The goblin asked Hagrid, as if the possibility of having such a thing was impossible.

"Ooh, yea. Jus' hold on fer one moment." Hagrid rummaged around through his pockets, setting a jumble of string and two dormice on the Goblin's desk in the process.

The goblin grimaced, picking up the mice by their tails. He glared at the mice with obvious distaste. Hermione tried not to giggle, but the situation was just so funny. She heard Harry give out a chuckle, and she couldn't help but give out her own laugh.

The Goblin scowled at them, effectively shutting them up. Hagrid let out a crow of success, and he handed over the two golden keys on chains. Hermione blinked in surprise, she had a key. She was sure Hagrid was just making things up. Why would she have a vault at a Wizarding bank?

The Goblin traded Hagrid the mice for the keys. Hagrid scooped the mice and string with one large hand, shoving them back into his coat. Hermione couldn't help herself, a laugh bubbled out of her. The utter ridiculousness of a goblin and giant man trading tiny mice overcame her.

Harry sent her a goofy grin, showing nearly all his teeth. "Very well," The goblin growled, "follow me."

The Goblin disappeared suddenly from their sight. Hermione stood there, not sure what to do. Hagrid didn't seem worried however. A moment later, a door swung open and their goblin was there waiting for them. To her surprise, the goblin was shorter than her. They must have extremely tall chairs if they go about sneering at everyone, Hermione laughed at the thought.

Hagrid hurried over, and Hermione and Harry had to run to catch up. They followed the Goblin through the door and down several hallways. They seemed to go deeper within the bank and the grandeur of the inside seemed to fall away and replace itself with stone walls and floors.

The Goblin stopped them at a large cart. It had seats for them all, and the Goblin wasted no time by climbing in, waiting for them to do the same.

"Do we have to get in that?" Harry asked warily.

"One way down, one way up." The Goblin told him flatly.

Hagrid climbed in, settling himself before patting the seat beside him. "I don' like this either, but the Goblin's right. Bes' to get this over with. Don't talk to me when we get goin'. Don't think I'll hold me breakfast in otherwise."

With those reassuring words Harry climbed in. Hermione climbed in after him. If someone told her a month ago she would get in a cart to look at her wizard vault with a goblin and giant man she would have laughed.

As it was, Hermione sat near Harry, knowing that he'd grab her if she looked to fly out of the cart. Barely settled, the cart lurched forward. It sped through on its track. Hermione tried to look around, but they only continued to speed up. She only got the impression that Gringotts was very dark and dingy.

Hermione had never been on a rollercoaster, but if this was what it was like, she never wanted to be on one again. The cart screeched to a halt, stopping as suddenly as it started. The Goblin hopped out and began to walk in front of the vault doors. Each door was different. Some looked like they would in the movies, with large handles and wheels. Others were more unique. One was completely blue with painted fish on it. Another had cogs and pulleys whirring. Others still barked like dogs or changed colors.

The Goblin stopped and turned expectantly to them. " Vault six hundred and eighty seven." Hermione looked at the vault closely. It looked like a large wooden door. Silhouetted against the door, the frame of a stag stood in white paint, its antlers wide and stretching the width of door.

The Goblin removed the key from his pocket and approached the door. He stuck in the keyhole, twisting it deftly. He scrambled back quickly as the door began to open.

Like a cask being broken for the first time, air seemed to blow from the door, whipping their hair back from their faces.

Hagrid pushed Harry before him, allowing him to walk in the vault first. At Hermione's accusing look, Hagrid explained.

"Can't be too careful with Gringotts, they could have protectiv' magic so only Harry can get in." Hagrid smiled at her.

Hermione felt guilty for thinking bad of Hagrid. Not everyone was out for Harry after all. She shouldn't let one group of mean adults to think badly of everyone.

"Aw, don't feel bad Hermione. I would never hurt Harry." Hagrid seemed to understand her guilt.

Hermione ducked her head in embarrassment, and followed Harry inside his vault. She gasped, her sight was assaulted by gold, silver and bronze.

"Hagrid, I know you told me my parents where well off, but is this really all mine?" Harry asked, sure this was all just one big mistake. Any moment now, the Goblin would laugh at his foolishness and they would go back to the cart and leave.

"Every knut, sickle and galleon Harry. Did ye think yer parents would leave yea with nothin? They loved ye Harry, they would want yea to be cared for. Yer guardians don' know nothing about this place, reckon thas' why the money still safe and sound. Take what yea need, you get the key now, so you can always come back." Hagrid explained. There were tears in his eyes, reassured that Harry would finally be taken care of.

"I can't believe my parents left me all this. How.. How much do think I should take? I don't understand wizarding money yet." Harry looked around his vault in awe.

"Hold on jus' a moment." Hagrid rummaged through his coat and handed Harry a small cloth bag. "I think that should be enough to get ye through the term."

Harry nodded his thanks and began filling his bag. Gold, silver and bronze coins filled his bag. Harry pulled the drawstrings taught.

"We'll have to get ye a belt so you can tie tha' on properly. Well come on then, let's get to Hermione's, then we can go and get yer supplies."

They loaded back into the cart, the white stag door slamming closed behind them. Hermione wondered what her vault would look like. It shouldn't even exist! Did she have magical relatives she didn't know about?

The cart slammed to a stop just a short while away. The Goblin hopped out and began walking. Hermione studied the Vaults they passed. Most of them were the standard grey and handle, though some were different colors.

The Goblin stopped. "Vault four hundred ninety seven." The Goblin stepped forward and inserted the key. The vault was plain, grey. There was no burst of air as the door opened. Hermione tried not to feel disappointed, after all, there wasn't even supposed to be a vault for her at all! Even this was surely a mistake.

Instead of the colorful assault on her eyes, the merest twinkle presented themselves. Hagrid urged her forward, though Hermione doubted that this vault had any nefarious protecting it. Where Harry had a trove of treasure, here there was merely a small pile of wizard money on shelves and the floor.

"I thought you said your parents were non-magical, like my relatives?" Harry asked, stepping into the vault with her.

"They are, I don't understand this. How can I have a vault when I didn't even know magic was?" Hermione was flabbergasted. She couldn't accept this money, she didn't even think it was hers. She would effectively be stealing someone's money. But Hagrid had the key and it was in her name.

Hermione turned around, Hagrid had entered the vault as well.

"Hagrid," She asked nervously. "I didn't know about magic, and my parents are norm-non-magical people." She nearly choked around "non-magical" she had meant to say normal, but that would be insulting to Hagrid and Harry.

"How can I have a vault?" Hermione finished, watching Hagrid's reaction. She needn't have bothered, Hagrid seemed incapable of deception.

"McGonagall set this vault for you. To pay for yer school supplies and such. Good teacher, McGonagall is. Here." Hagrid gave her a bag identical to Harry. "Fill that up and we'll get goin. Lots to do today."

Hermione was torn between refusing the money and just going along with it. How would she pay McGonagall back?

"I could pay for you." Harry offered. Hermione smiled at him. Owing Harry in her book was better than owing someone else, but she couldn't take Harry's money either.

"Nonsense, McGonagall would have my hide if you didn' take it Hermione." Hagrid dismissed the notion.

Hermione relented and began filling up the bag with a variety of coins. She didn't want to get Hagrid in trouble.

Before long they were loaded back into the cart and zooming back up to ground level at an alarming speed. They walked out of the bank feeling disorientated and dizzy. That rollercoaster of a ride made even Hagrid a bit green in the face.

"I know jus' the thing. You lot go and get yer wands, and I'll just take a little kip down to the Leaky Cauldron. Mr. Ollivander will get the best wand for ye. Just listen to what he tells yea. Here we are! I'll be back in a bit; don' leave until I'm back." With those words Hagrid left them at the doorstep of the shop.

Hermione opened the door, tugging Harry inside. The shop was dimly lit, Hermione could see the years of dust on the shelves behind the counter. The shop was bigger than it appeared on the outside, because Hermione couldn't see an end to the boxes and shelves reaching back behind the counter.

The shop seemed to be empty, and she and Harry stood around in an awkward silence.

"So, you must feel a bit better after seeing your vault." Hermione offered.

Harry glanced at her in surprise. Did she so rarely speak that even Harry became surprised when she spoke? Hermione Not for the first time, Hermione wondered what was wrong with her.

"Yea, I suppose. It's just." Harry ran a hand through his hair, ruffling the already unruly mop. "I'd rather have them then the money, you know? And I'll never know them, but they knew me and left me all that money and it's just…" Harry trailed off.

"Frustrating," Hermione offered, nodding in understanding.

"And I don't know if I should be sad or angry or just… disappointed." Harry's lips tugged down into a frown, his eyes projecting some unknown sadness.

Hermione thought he looked older than his eleven years when he frowned like that. Something that was hard to do, when he was small and a tad scrawny.

Hermione never had a friend who needed comforting. So she tried the best she could. "What would Dilys want you to do?" Hermione nudged Harry with her elbow.

Harry snorted. "Ten different types of breathing exercises, then focus of my "inside" feelings." The mood broke its tense and awkward state after Harry proceeded to make a mockery of the ten different breathing exercises. Hermione mimicked Harry; soon it escalated to the both of them pretending to be in labor.

It was long before the duo composed themselves enough to look around the shop again. Hermione wiped away a stray tear from her face, wiping away the remnants of laughter.

"I don't think this shop should be empty." Harry approached the front desk.

Hermione stepped up with him, glancing over the contents on the counter. Hermione pointed at something on the desk. "A bell, try and ring it." Hermione did not want to spend all day in a dusty storefront.

Harry obliged and hit the bell, the pure not ringing out into the air. The note died, and Hermione looked around expectantly.

"Maybe we should go and find Hagrid." Harry suggested, tipping his head for her suggestion.

"No need Mr. Potter. I am Olivander, I apologize for the wait."

Hermione jumped, shocked at the sudden appearance of the man. Mr. Olivander looked incredibly old, his stringy white hair barely controlled. He wasn't dressed as crazily as the other wizards she saw, he wore a white shirt and a simple green vest. His sleeves were rather flowy though, so he seemed to have some sort of wizard fashion.

"Er, hello. We came to buy a wand?" Harry stuttered, flustered.

"New Hogwarts students I see. Well, introduce yourselves, and we can get started." Olivander motioned to Harry.

"Right, er, I'm Harry Potter." Harry seemed to cringe back, waiting for the explosion that came from his name.

"Ah, I remember when your mother came through those doors for her first wand. Willow, ten and a fourth inches." Olivander's eyes seemed to glaze of as he continued to talk. "Very swishy, excellent for charms work."

"Your father's wand was mahogany, good for protection, very sturdy. It is perhaps unfortunate that his wand failed him in time of his greatest need." Olivander seemed to draw closer to Harry.

"But perhaps its failure was not in vain?" Olivander breathed. He straightened suddenly, turning to Hermione.

"My name is Hermione Granger." She offered, trying to stand straight under his gaze. Olivander seemed unhinged to Hermione, and she hadn't the faintest idea why he was allowed to administer magical items at all, especially items that every witch and wizard required. The shop suddenly seemed to small, with Olivander's presence taking over the room.

"I am not familiar with that name, perchance you are muggle born?" Olivander queried.

"My parents are non-magical." Hermione supplied, thinking that it was becoming a greater compliment the longer she was in the wizarding world.

"Ah, so you do not know the ways of magical beings. I am sure Harry Potter won't be too upset as I summarize them while we search for your wand." The man opened a drawer and pulled out a measuring tape. He tapped them with his wand and they came to life, twirling around Hermione and Harry.

Hermione stiffened as the tape seemed to slither over her, tightening and releasing. Olivander instructed them to hold out their arms and stand straight. As they were being measured, Olivander began to talk.

"Since I see no guardian with you, I will just tell you a bit about what we will be doing today. I do not question your intelligence, but knowledge of things takes away the fear of them. Wands are made from wand smiths, like me." Olivander twirled his wand absently, contemplating.

"We combine different choices of wood with a magical counterpart. The length, wood type and magical core all effect the type of person it's meant for. Some wood is better suited for others, like some cores are suited for others. The wand chooses the wizard, or witch. It is a magical bind that cannot be broken easily."

Olivander tapped the measuring tapes and they flew to his hand, limp. "I think that is enough for now. I will be right back." Olivander disappeared into the shelves, rummaging and pulling things down.

The old wand smith approached them, a towering stack of wands in his hand. He set them down on the counter and sorted them into two piles.

He tapped the boxes, bringing Hermione and Harry to attention. "Do you know about the mark?" He asked them.

Hermione shook her head no, glancing at Harry to see if he knew what the wand maker was talking about. Harry shrugged, his eyes wide. Hermione turned to Olivander.

Olivander huffed, rolling up his sleeve. "Look at this," he urged, showing them his wrist. Hermione leaned over cautiously. She saw a W half within a triangle. It was dark black, with gray shading here and there.

"This is my mark; I received it when my wand chose me. You will get one as well today. It can show up anywhere on your body, though arms and legs are usually the common place. Keep your mark to yourself for now, don't go around showing everyone. They are considered private matters." Olivander rolled his shirt sleeve back down, covering the mark from view.

"Thank you for telling us sir." Harry said gravely. Hermione nodded as well. She didn't know what she would have done if a tattoo just showed up on her skin with no explanation.

"Now that the boring part is out of the way, let's continue on to find your wands." Olivander joked dryly.

Olivander handed them each a box, and Hermione opened hers to see an elegantly carved rod of wood. She picked it up out of its case and felt an overwhelming sense of.. nothing. Olivander snatched the wand out of her hand, replacing it back into the box. Hermione looked over in shock at Harry, who was wandless as well.

"No matter no matter, next one I think." Another box was placed in front of them, and Hermione opened the box again to find a short stubby wand of dark wood. She barely placed her fingers on it before it was snatched out of her hand again. Hermione tried not wince at the sudden movements.

Soon, more and more boxes were discarded. Hermione didn't even try to force a feeling when she picked up the wands anymore. Olivander started to become agitated, pacing and muttering under his breath. If Hermione hadn't been so frustrated, she would have laughed with Harry at the man's ire.

Maybe this was the moment of truth; maybe she wasn't a witch after all. If she wasn't then surely this would help smooth things along with her parents.

As it was, the clock was ticking and she couldn't believe Hagrid hadn't returned yet. Another box was given to her and Hermione opened it with a sigh. The wood was a light color, and vines entangled the wand as it trailed throughout its length. It looked about twelve inches, though Hermione couldn't be sure. She reached to take it, sure that Mr. Olivander would snatch it from her at the very last second.

She picked it up, feeling its slight weight in her hand. Suddenly, a torrent of warm air blew over her, flattening her hair. Warmth she had never felt before seeped into her body, filling up the empty space and settling in her bones. She waved the wand in panic, and silver sparks shot out of the wand and fluttered about her, turning into butterflies that disappeared with a twinkle.

She gasped in surprise, hearing Harry's congratulations behind her. Mr. Olivander appeared ready to jump up and down in excitement.

"Vine wood, eleven and three fourths of an inch. Dragon Heartstring." He leaned over, taking the wand gently from her hand. He inspected in carefully before returning it to her.

"Vine wood and dragon heartstring combination, haven't seen that one in a long while." Olivander smiled gleefully. "Vine wood and Dragon Heartstrings is commonly a symbol of passionate emotions in each extreme, both happiness and wrath, respectively."

Olivander leaned in, tapping his wand on her own. "Vine wood is connected to the autumn equinox, when there are equal hours of darkness and light, and thus to balance, as well as to the harvest, a time of growth and achieving goals. You will do well with this wand I think, young Hermione Granger. You will do well indeed." Olivander eased back, a satisfied smile on his face.

Hermione shivered, the man's words sending a sense of unease down her spine. Why was he so cryptic?

"And now for Mr. Potter." Olivander rummaged through the remaining boxes in the stack before shaking his head.

"This simply won't do." Olivander gazed at Harry, his gaze becoming contemplative. "Perhaps, but surely not. What are the chances?" He trailed off. He turned and disappeared in the shelves, until they couldn't hear or see him anymore.

He returned, a single box held preciously in his hands. He set the box down before Harry, watching him intently.

Harry bit his lip and pushed his glasses firmly on his face. He opened the box, and they all heald their breath as he reached down to pick up the wand. He lifted the wand up, and Hermione caught view of it. The handle seemed to still have bark on it, though it was polished smooth. The wood stripped of bark was still darker than Hermione's own wand.

Air that Hermione couldn't feel whipped Harry's hair to and fro, and golden sparks shot themselves from his wand with unseen fury. Hermione smiled at her friend's success.

Olivander seemed pleased as well, but his face turned down in a frown. "Very curious, very curious indeed."

Harry, feeling bolder, questioned him. "What's curious sir? If you don't mind me asking."

Hermione edged closer to Harry, wanting to hear the wand makers answer as well.

"Eleven inches, Holly and phoenix feather. Nice and supple. But as it so happens, the Phoenix that gave the core to your wand also donated another.

It is curious, that you chose the wand, the wand who shares its core with another. The same brother who _gave you that scar_." Olivander's words caused Harry to shiver.

"Do… Do you mean Voldemort?" Harry asked. Harry looked nervous using the name of his parents murderer.

"Best not to speak the Dark Lord's name, Mr. Potter." Olivander began gathering up the used boxes, stacking them in piles.

"But he's dead, isn't he? So it wouldn't matter if I use his name." Harry muttered.

Olivander straightened, training his eye on her friend. "We used to live in dark times Mr. Potter. The Dark Lord was very powerful, but on that fateful night, only you survived." Olivander eyed the scar hidden by Harry's hair.

"He marked you, and I do not suppose I know how that happened. But I will say this, lurking from the shadows is easier than walking in the sunlight, Mr. Potter. That will be seven galleons."

Olivander waited as they both dug into bags and pulled out seven gold pieces. He accepted the payment with a nod, and disappeared once more into the back, taking the unused wands with him.

"What do you think he meant by that?" Harry whispered to her.

"I haven't the slightest idea Harry, but I think he was saying that Voldemort was still alive. They moved towards the door, thinking they would stand near it to better spot Hagrid.

They spotted Hagrid from afar; it wasn't hard to spot the giant bearded man.

"So, how'd it go? Got yer wands I see. Come along then. Lots to do." Hagrid bustled off, the duo trailing behind them. Hagrid seemed anxious to leave the wand shop as quickly as possible.

The rest of the trip was a blur, with magic bursting at the seams. They got everything on their lists, and they seemed to avoid any unwanted attention. Hermione was very interested in Flourish and Blots, and she hoped she could convince McGonagall to return with her before the school year. Being locked up in Hogwarts wasn't a prison sentence, but getting out could be nice too.

Hermione even bought a few books for light reading. History of the magical world would help her get settled, in the least. Harry seemed interested in the broom shop. They both had a fit of laughter when they caught sight of flying brooms.

Overall Diagon Alley seemed bright and happy, chasing away and foul feelings resting in her for that day. Hermione could feel her perception of magic shifting with her good mood. Surely, if everyone was happy here, magic couldn't be that terrible?

"Las' stop." Hagrid exclaimed, escorting them into the Magical Menagerie. To her continued surprise of the day, the shop was filled with every animal imaginable. Owls, snakes, cats, toads and a host of other creatures. The place was packed, and Hermione saw a flash of fire over towards her right. She mentally noted to stay away from that area.

"Says on yer list you can have one pet. Yer birthday coming up Harry, so pick a pet on me. Anything you like, provided its' not too dangerous." Hagrid beamed proudly at this announcement.

Hermione and Harry scoured the shop, considering each animal carefully.

"Look at this Harry, it says it's a hellhound." Hermione pointed out the puppy behind the glass. It yipped and licked after her fingers.

"It also says it sparks fire on occasion as well, Hermione, I don't think that is a good idea." Harry shook his head and moved on. Hermione trailed after him, a hand pressed against the glass regretfully.

"What are owls for anyway?" Harry asked aloud.

Hagrid heard him and provided him with the answer.

"Wizards send letter all around the world with owls. Smart creatures. Fastest way to get a letter around. I reckon some of the kids at Hogwarts will have their own, but there is an owlry if you need to send a letter and don't have yer own owl. Convenient creatures to have."

"I don't know if I should get an owl, I don't have anyone to send letters to." Harry whispered to Hermione when Hagrid turned his back.

"That's silly Harry, you will eventually have people to send letters to. You could send one to me." Hermione pointed out. Hermione was already thinking of her own future, when she was with her parents she still wanted to keep in touch with Harry after all.

Nothing seemed to catch Harry's eye, and they continued to wander through the store. Harry stopped in his tracks, and not expecting it, Hermione slammed right into him. The nearly tumbled to the ground, but Harry saved them at the last moment, pulling her up.

"Sorry Harry," Hermione blushed.

Harry waved her apology off, pointing excitedly to a cage hung from the ceiling. "Look at that Hermione! She's beautiful!"

Hermione peered upwards to the cage Harry pointed. Inside was the prettiest bird Hermione had ever seen. It was snowy white, purer than any snow she had seen. The owl observed them with sharp eyes, letting out a questioning screech. The owl's beak clacked as it moved around its cage.

"Oh, she is beautiful Harry." Hermione agreed.

"Let's find Hagrid!" Harry disappeared behind her, twisting through the crowd to retrieve the bearded man. Hermione rolled her eyes. She couldn't blame him though, was it everyday someone just let you pick out a pet? Harry didn't seem like he got a lot of presents.

Harry returned with Hagrid in tow. "There Hagrid! Can you see her?"

Hagrid chuckled at Harry's giddiness. "I see er' lad." Hagrid reached up and unhooked the cage from the ceiling rafter, holding it for Harry. The owl screeched its displeasure at being manhandled.

Harry peered around the cage bars at the owl inside. He cautiously stuck his finger inside, petting the feathers under the beak. Hermione heard quiet hoots. Hermione was surprised the owl didn't nip at him.

Harry smiled softly at the owl. "I want her, Hagrid."

**OoOoOoOo**

Hagrid led them to the meet up point. Hermione had been wondering the entire time if magical ice-cream was different than just regular ice-cream. The entered the parlor, they spotted McGonagall almost immediately.

Hagrid ambled over to her. "ello' Professor McGonagall. Shoppin' is all through. "

The witch looked up from her bag, smiling at Hagrid. "Thank you Hagrid, Madame Pomfrey and I just couldn't reschedule those appointments. I hope it didn't take too much out of you."

"Aw no, they were right angels. I would do it anytime. It was a pleasure." Hagrid seemed a bit redder under his beard, embarrassed by the attention.

"Well, you can stay for ice-cream if you want. We are heading back to Hogwarts after that." McGonagall offered politely.

"Can't I'm fraid. Got to run an errand. See you at Hogwarts Harry. If fact, come visit me, I'm close to the Forbidden Forest. Can't miss me house. You too Hermione." Hagrid handed McGonagall their shopping bag.

Harry nodded enthusiastically. Hagrid gave him a smile and left the parlor.

"Well, pick something out and then I will check over your supplies." McGonagall motioned to the menu board.

The place was pretty quiet, only a family tucked into a corner. Hermione studied the menu, it all seemed pretty normal.

McGonagall ordered for them and soon they were tucked in at a table. McGonagall opened the shopping bag and started to rummage around. Hermione couldn't help but watch. It took Hagrid several times to explain the bottomless bag.

Hermione picked up her spoon, ready to dig into the ice-cream. McGonagall glanced up at their ice-cream before starting and grabbing both of their hands. Hermione jerked in surprise, cowering in her seat. Harry reacted the same way.

McGonagall let them go slowly. "I'm sorry, I just wanted to tell not to be alarmed when you get your first spoonful. I nearly forgot, confetti shoots out sometimes. I wouldn't want it to scare you."

Hermione straightened in her seat, feeling embarrassed for acting that way. Hermione stuck her spoon in experimentally. Like McGonagall warned, confetti shot into the air, twirling lazily to the ground.

Hermione watched as Harry tried as well, confetti shooting into the air. A small smile appeared on Harry's face. Hermione could feel the returning smile on her own. They both chose chocolate, and it tasted really good. Magical even. Hermione snickered at the thought.

"What is this?" McGonagall asked in disbelief. Hermione shifted just in time to see McGonagall pull out Harry's new owl from the bag.

Harry shrunk in his seat, smiling sheepishly. "Hagrid got me an owl for my birthday."

McGonagall pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes at the door Hagrid left through. "An errand indeed."

"Don't be mad at Hagrid McGonagall, it's just I never really got birthday presents. And, well I was a bit too excited to tell Hagrid no. We can return her If it's against the rules." Harry shoulders slumped, he seemed miserable getting those words out.

McGonagall watched Harry with observing eyes. "I do not think that will be necessary. Owls are permitted within school grounds. I just expected better from Hagrid."

McGonagall set the cage on the table beside Harry. Harry abandoned his ice-cream to coo at the owl.

Hermione hid her smile beneath her hair.

**OoOoOoOo**

Harry was off showing his newly named owl Hedwig the owlry. Hermione found it funny that his owl matched their white clothing to a T. Were they cursed to have everything around them pure white? Hermione was left alone in the infirmary with her new schoolbooks. They were terribly fascinating. She was so absorbed she didn't hear the footsteps leading up to her bed.

"Hermione, do you wish to take a walk with me?"

Hermione glanced up from her book in surprise. McGonagall peered down to her, waiting for her answer. Hermione had yet to see McGonagall as anxious, but there seemed to be a bit of an edge to her now.

Hermione nodded, slipping off the bed and putting on her shoes. They walked away from the castle, to a part Hermione hadn't explored yet. McGonagall halted their steps on a giant covered bridge handing over the water.

Hermione hung over the railing, watching the water ripple in the slight breeze. Afternoon light glinted off the water, sending orange light to flicker across its expanse. She was curious why McGonagall took her here. She was already trying to gather her courage to ask the one question burning through her mind. If only she could get it out, and give her thoughts voice. It was just so hard!

"I hope Hagrid's actions didn't make you feel uncomfortable. I know he is a bit oblivious sometimes, but I don't think he meant to hurt your feelings by only getting Harry a pet. He doesn't favor Harry over you, he just knows Harry never really had a proper birthday present." McGonagall told her softly.

Hermione blinked in surprise. Harry's owl? She didn't think about that at all. It was a birthday present after all, and she saw how happy Harry was. She couldn't take that away from him by throwing a fit.

"I'm not upset about Harry's owl, he seems very happy with his birthday present." Hermione said, hopping down from the railing.

McGonagall studied her carefully before nodding at her sincerity. "And is there anything you _are_ upset about?"

Hermione wondered how she could tell. She breathed deeply, she could feel the words curling in her stomach, ready to be cast into the air. Maybe the Healer knew something after all, with all his breathing exercises. It took a bravery she didn't know she had to let the words go.

"I want to know what is going on with my parents. Will I be returned to them soon? I want the truth." Hermione didn't know if she was ready for the truth, however terrible it would be. But she couldn't just hang about on halfhearted wishes and unknowing truths. She had to know once and for all.

McGonagall seemed to measure her response before responding. "Your parents have been arrested. They will have a trial in December."

Hermione's heart seemed to drop from its rightful place into her stomach. "What are they charged with?" she whispered.

"Child abuse and neglect." McGonagall's eyes were trained on her, eyes capturing every response, every emotion.

Hermione turned away, her hand shakily wiping away the tears threatening to spill out. "Is this because.. because of what that Healer found?" She knew that whole situation was her fault. She was the cause of her parents arrest!

A hand tugged on her shoulder, turning her back to face the older woman. "No Hermione, it is not because of the Healer. Listen to me, your parents, it is _not your fault_. Nothing you did caused them to be arrested, it was their actions that made this happen."

Hermione could hear the words spoken by McGonagall, but she couldn't seem to comprehend them. "So I will never be with them again?" Hermione was still holding out hope, no matter how small and improbable.

"No, Hermione. You will never live with them again." The condemning words seemed to fall on Hermione's ears, like hammers striking the last blows home.

Hermione sniffled, feel the loss acutely deep in her chest. "What will happen to me then? Who is in charge of me?" Hermione cried. Hermione's world seemed to be crashing down around her. She needed something to hold on, something to anchor to.

"Nothing bad is going to happen to you Hermione. And I will be in charge of you." McGonagall pulled the crying girl into her arms. Hermione tried fight for a moment, to twist away and run. McGonagall held on though, and Hermione could feel something inside her break.

Tears welled to the surface, breaking through like a dam. Hermione felt McGonagall's arms curl around her, a comforting pressure around her shell shocked body. Hermione sobbed, her hands covering her face.

Despair of the final realization, her parents weren't coming for her. They were gone from her life, they wouldn't just pop up and take her home. And there was nothing she could say or do that would change that.

"It's going to be alright, I promise." McGonagall rubbed her back soothingly.

Hermione trembled, what was she going to do?

**Author's notes:**

**And scene! For those of you curious of where that mark is located, just tune in next chapter! I hadn't forgotten about it! I am sorry for the amount of time this took to crank this out, I decided to appease you by making it a large one at that. **

**I hope you are all satisfied with this chapter. I wanted to clear up several things with this one. Wanted to incorporate a small time leap. Wanted to get those wands to their new owners, that was very important. And I wanted to get some Happiness rolling. Healing starts in small steps.**

**I decided to use Hagrid instead of the power duo McGonagall and Pomfrey to take them on their first Diagon Alley trip for several reasons. Harry needed his owl, it is important to his character after all. I needed them to get their wands alone, and Hagrid did take a kip down to the pub in canon, if only for getting measured for clothes. **

**For those of you ready to see some Reasonable Harry Anger, next chapter is going to be your best friend. **

**I hope you appreciate the mice and Goblin thing, I thought it was simply deplorable of me, but I couldn't resist.**

**McGonagall set that vault from her own money, if you wanted that tidbit. Hermione is her daughter now. **

**I realize that my Granger's may come off as a bit unbelievable in their utter madness towards their only daughter. I am fixing to remedy that, as you see from the beginning of the chapter. What intrigue could cause the madness of the Granger adults? Suggestions anyone? **

**And I sincerely hope you all enjoyed a bit of protective Hermione. Such a little lioness hidden in that quiet shell. Time to grow Hermione, time to grow.**

**Hermione now knows the impending state of her parents. And such a heartwarming scene with McGonagall eh? I try, I really do. **

**I like all my readers and reviewers. Until the next chapters then, Thank YOU for reading.**


End file.
